


A Song That Never Ends

by TheGeniusCallsYou



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Belle and Lacey are the same person, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone flirts with Gold but who can blame them, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, James Bond AU, OUAT Characters as James Bond Characters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Rumbelle - Freeform, Smut, Whump, but not all of them, he can, injuries, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23332081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGeniusCallsYou/pseuds/TheGeniusCallsYou
Summary: Ten years ago, Agent Robert Gold had lost almost everything, and now the only thing keeping him moving is a promise given a long time ago. He won't rest till he gets all those responsible. But is the current case really connected or has he finally cracked? How does Lacey French, the woman from the casino that seems not to have ever existed, fit in all of this? The clock is ticking, old enemies are done with hiding, and when he can't even trust the MI6, can he trust Lacey while knowing he shouldn't?(A James Bond AU/Mashup which basically means that there are some Bond easter eggs but it doesn't follow the storyline of any movie/book)
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Lacey/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 25
Kudos: 18





	1. Cover Art

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so this thing is completely my friend's fault who, while watching Bond movies said: "make Rumbelle into a James Bond movie". And so fallowed us throwing ideas around back and forth and here's the result.  
> There are still some characters not revealed in the tags so stay tuned ;) 
> 
> The "Bond Song" for this story (which lyrics I put at the end) is "A Song That Never Ends" by Aviators.
> 
> Without further ado - Enjoy! I hope you'll stick with me to the end!


	2. Prologue

He was getting too old for this.

That was his first thought as he jumped over the ledge of one building to land on the roof of the next. His knees buckled and hit the tiles, but he didn't even have the time to register the pain as he stood back up and ran.

A bullet swooshed almost to close to his head, and he had to duck behind a brick chimney. He took this moment to reload his Walther P99. He grimaced slightly when pulling back the slide. An upgrade was in order.

One of the bullets had hit the loose brick, spraying its fragments and dust onto his head. He looked with dismay at his ruined suit and waited for three more shots before dashing away from his cover.

He rolled to the side, firing at the same time, stopping just in time before falling from the roof. He heard the unmistakable sound of a body dropping to the ground and scrambled to his feet, not bothering to check. His target was getting away.

He could see the bastard two buildings away, getting down by climbing down the drainpipe. 

_"I have my eyes on him. I'll try to cut his way."_

"Nice of you to finally show up," he snarled into his earpiece. 

_"Stop snapping at me and run."_

He cursed under his breath, reholstered the gun, and leapt over the ledge. 

It would have been so much easier if Nolan hadn't touched his ear like a fucking novice while they had been preparing the ambush. They would have grabbed their target swiftly instead of running after him. It had been even worse as the bastard had backup.

As he jumped to another roof, he could see Nolan killing the engine of his car not far away. 

He slid off the tiles bouncing at the last moment. He caught himself painfully on the railing of the highest balcony, and before the pain in his chest could register, he let go, landing on the gallery below.

He turned just in time to see another car slamming into Nolan's vehicle.

He could do nothing but watch. It was like a slow-motion and his mouth run suddenly dry.

Someone was screaming in his ear. Probably M for a status update, but he had heard none of it. He swallowed once and was off, no longer caring how he landed.

He knew he would be bruised all over after all of this. He jumped from one balcony to the next with a speed that could give his younger self a run for his money, and soon found himself on the road and running. 

Bullets flew in his direction. He just zigzagged, pulling his gun out at the same time, emptying the magazine without blinking. Two men went down as he finally reached the crashed car. He opened the door with the sole purpose of getting Nolan out, not minding the two masked men that were still firing from their hiding spot down the street.

"Agent down!" He screamed into his earpiece. 

Nolan looked awful. His whole left side bloodied and arm definitely broken. Gold could be known as a total bastard too many, but there were people who he cared whenever they were hurt or not. Even if he would sooner eat his own tie than say so aloud. Nolan was one of them. The other man knew exactly why but let Gold carry on saying otherwise.

"You're going to be alright." 

From the look of the wound on the man's neck, it was one fat lie. He gritted his teeth in frustration.

_"Leave him."_

"I need to dress the wound."

_"The emergency team is on their way. There's no time."_

"He won't make it."

_"I said leave him, Nottingham is the priority. You have your orders, 007."_

Sometimes he hated his job. He hated M.

"I won't lower the rent for your wife, Nolan, so stay alive or so help me." 

The other man didn't answer, but he curled his lip in an attempt of a smile. Good, it meant he was still fighting. Gold pulled off his tie and secured it around the man's neck, pulling hard enough to almost choke. It should slow the blood flow just a little. He reached around the wounded man and pulled his gun from the hip holster. Nolan won't need it anyway.

He took a deep breath and jumped over the hood of the car. 

It took him three shots but got the guy hiding behind the car that hit Nolan. The other decided to run straight at him with a metal rod. He seemed to had run out of the bullets. Gold smiled nastily. It was just what he needed.

He ducked and twisted under the pole, hitting the other man in the kidneys then ducking again when the bar flew at his head. He caught the man's arm and twisted it, lashing at his opponent jaw at the same time. He got hit in the face for his troubles and almost kneed in the gut, but he managed to get hold of the rod and wrenched it free. One swift kick behind the knees sends the other guy to the ground. Something akin to electric shock shot up from Gold's ankle and he grimaced.

He shouldn't have used his right leg.

With one swift motion, he smacked the criminal with the rod catching him on the jaw. 

_"Stop messing around, Gold. Nottingham is getting away."_

"If you say so."

He was heaving with anger and wished to beat the man with his own hands, but M was right. Time was running out. He reloaded the gun and shot the guy point-blank in the head. 

Now to Nottingham.

Without hesitation, Gold pushed a young man, who stopped to watch the fight, from his motorcycle and commandeered the vehicle. He didn't care about the people in his way - it was in their best interest to move the hell away. 

He turned the corner just in time to see Nottingham run into Giotto's Bell Tower. He gritted his teeth in building frustration. Just brilliant.

He jumped from the motorcycle without killing the engine and run through the entrance. Fortunately, there weren't many people and those who were run away upon seeing a man carrying a gun. 

He took two steps at a time, and it was in times like this, he was glad he had decided to cut his hair short all those years ago. He reached the first gallery and looked around. He smirked upon seeing a rope in the middle of the clearing. Nottingham, with all probability, was way ahead of him but he had found himself a shortcut. He grabbed the rope, twisting it around his wrist and taken a shot at the windlass standing in the corner.

He felt a sharp tug, stretching his arm, and he was up in the air. He swang on the rope to land on the second viewing deck just as his target exited the stairs in a hurry.

"Well, dearie, as much as this game of cat and mouse was fun, I'm afraid it had come to an end. Now, the laptop and the codes if you please."

Nottingham looked around, eyes blown wide from adrenaline, breathing heavy and with sweat dripping from his messed hair. He took a shaky step back, clutching his backpack.

"Tsk, Tsk. You have nowhere to run. You run downstairs - I go after you, you end up with a bullet in your head. So, do yourself a favour and just do what I _ask_."

_"We need him alive, double-o-seven."_

He ignored her voice in his ear and took a step forward, reaching out with his hand.

"The bag. Now." 

Nottingham swallowed hard with a wild look in his eyes, before narrowing his eyes. He set his jaw, his nostrils flaring.

"Fuck you."

Gold smiled a predatory grin, the sun catching in his golden tooth.

"If you ask so nicely."

Nottingham lung at him with a cry but he stepped aside effortlessly and slammed the man's face on the railing. He didn't stay down, though and swung back, catching him in the jaw and splitting his lip. He twisted and managed to land a hit with his other fist to his robs. Gold stumbled back and spat blood. The other man was bigger than him, but it hardly ever mattered. With a couple of skilled punches, he got the upper hand and pinned the guy with his forearm against his throat.

"The codes."

"I don't know them!"

He pushed harder on his throat, making the man gurgle in need of air, watching as his eyes bulged and face redded.

"I won't ask again, dearie."

"503212356!" 

_"We got it."_

"Thank you for your cooperation. Now," he snarled and lowered his face closer to the other man, pushing at his windpipe. "Who's your employer?"

He saw something changing for a split second in Nottingham's eyes, and then, before he could have reacted in any way, the man kicked him viciously in his right shin with his metal-reinforced boots. Stars burst behind his eyes and he grunted, stopping himself bearly from screaming. His leg gave out under him, and his grip on Nottingham slacked. The other man freed his hands and grabbed him by the lapels, pulling him over the railings. 

Somehow, through the haze of pain, he got hold of the rope. It kept sliding threw the pulley block with him falling, his weight pulling it with him. He threw his hand to the side, blindly grabbing the second rope, twisting himself, wrapping both his hands and legs in them, and pulling. It was agony for his ankle, but he preferred it to become a red splatter on the stone floor.

Almost in the last second, he managed to stop his descend and safety put his two feet on the ground. His right one buckled almost as soon as he put some weight on it. He went down on his knees immediately, breathing hard through the agony. His heart was beating too fast, and he could feel his pulse hammering in his head with every beat. He spat on the floor, getting rid of the blood lingering in his mouth. 

Slowly and painfully, he got on his feet and limped to the body lying a couple of steps to his right, cursing with every wobbly step.

Nottingham's eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing and glazed over. Gold tried to kneel carefully but ended falling to his knees once again, but this time next to the dead man. He put two fingers to Nottingham's neck, searching for a pulse. He found none.

"The target's dead."

Turning the man to his belly, he just hoped the laptop could still be salvageable. 

********

Somewhere in a poorly lighted room, a well-manicured finger reached out to cut off the feed visible on the computer screen. A middle-aged blond man sat back in his antic chair. He was dressed in an expensive-looking suit with a red foulard tied around his neck. His expression blank, only but a small crease between his brows. He twirled the wine in his glass before taking a sip and turning to a woman standing by the door.  
She was a pretty, little thing. Chestnut hair tied high up, a make-up highlighting her blue eyes and making her full lips hard to miss.  
He smiled at her, but it was a cunning smile with no warmth in his eyes.

"Our frequent client will make a call soon. I want you to pass this message to your superior - she'll know what to do."

"And my job in this?"

"Oh, the normal, fishing for information yada yada yada - you know, as always. Let Cruella negotiate, you are there to listen." He stood up and moved to stand just inches from her, reaching out with his index finger to trace her cheek and jaw. "Nobody suspects a pretty face."

She smiled up at him, this cocky smile of hers.

"Why would they?"

"Exactly, now go."

He looked darkly at her retreating back. Sometimes he wished she was his. But he had made a deal, and a gentleman always respected his deals.

__

Never heard your ghost

Passing through 

Gotta be a gift 

Sent from heaven

Wrapped in you

Passions of the flesh

And of mind

Push to make you kill,

Serve, and conquer, or

Leave behind

I'd take a bullet for you

In a minute, falling in it,

I'm driven

Sounds like the feeling we knew

Sounding like a better harmony to live in

Under pressure, bound by pleasure

Weighted just to make us bend

A voice above, it's the sound of love we hear

A song that never ends

Lying through your teeth

And I don't care

Give me just a taste

Of disaster

If you dare

Like a siren call in the dark

You might be a star

I could worship

From the heart

I never knew

There could be a song quite as beautiful as you

Bullet through my heart

No mercy left to send

Just one exception

A light that never dies

A song that never ends

It's our affliction

A song that never ends

A light that never dies

A love that's going to change your world tonight

A truth that never fails

A beast that's never tame

And I don't know your name


	3. Chapter 1: No More

It was almost 10 p.m. when Regina Mills was making her way home in her car from her meeting with the board. The wind was blowing outside, and she was thankful she didn't have to walk. Being a leader to a national agency had its privileges, and it sure was one of them. Having to make excuses to the people who were only waiting for even the smallest mistake was not. 

The mission to Florence had been a mess, and the members of the board had been furious. Her agents had managed to get the codes that enabled them to intercept and sank the weapon transport that in all probability had been about to be used in a terrorist attack, but that had been it. That managed to pacify the board a little bit, only a little because the big fish had escaped, and Flora Blue had shown her how displeased she had been with this outcome. Nottingham had died and with him the information about his employer, the guy who they had been trying to catch for years now. Something fishy was going on on the top. They all had suspicions about who Nottingham was working for, but people like that didn't work alone.   
To top that, two of her agents were dead, one in a coma and one God knew where. She suspected, sometimes Gold was choosing to disappear in moments like this solemnly for avoiding all the mess he had caused.  
If it weren't for all the things he had done for her, she would have fired him a long time ago. This, and he was one good agent. Or at least he had been once, before this whole mess.

She tiredly approached her front door and twisted the key in the lock. She hoped Henry was already asleep - she felt too worn out to interact with her son. As soon as she walked through the door, Regina stopped dead in her tracks. The lights in the living room were on. 

"So cool! Did you also eat real Italian pizza?"

She heard a soft chuckle and instantly knew who else was in her house. It didn't make her relax, though.

"Oh yes. And I've brought you something - here."

"Are those - ?"

"Mhm. They're in English. Took me a while to find it, but here you are."

"Henry, what are you still doing up?"

She entered her leaving room to find her son sitting cross-legged on the rug, holding a big, brown book. In her armchair in front of the boy sat no other that missing agent Gold. A ghost of a smile was dancing on his lips while looking down, but it disappeared as soon as he looked up at her. A challenging look had taken its place.

Henry turned upon hearing her voice, eyes bright and with a wide smile on his face and almost bouncing from excitement.

"Mum, look! Mr Gold has brought me a book of fairy tales from Italy!"

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Her gaze was focused solemnly on Gold.

"That's very nice of him, but why don't you go up to your room, hmm? It's already past your bedtime."

"But mum - !"

"Your mother's right, Henry. Come on, off with you." 

He looked down at the boy, and there it was again - that soft ghost of a smile with something akin to regret in his eyes. Henry seemed torn for a moment but finally sighed and stood up, gathering his new book under his arm. 

"Good night, Mr Gold! Thank you for the book!" 

The boy flashed him a toothy grin, and Gold's smile broadened.

"You're very welcome. Sweet dreams, Henry."

"Good night, mum!"

"Brush your teeth!"

She kissed him on the head, then waited until she heard the sound of his door closing. Only then she turned towards Gold, and all sights of warm had disappeared from her face. 

Gold drummed his fingers on the armrest. His warm smile turned into a cunning one, and something glimmered in his eyes. They were looking at each other like two predators, waiting for the other's move. She didn't have the patience for that, even in her younger years that look had made her uneasy. These days she at least was able to control her face more and stand her ground without flinching. More or less.

"What the hell are you doing in here?"

He chuckled humorlessly. 

"Sorry to disappoint that your address isn't any secret to me."

"You know damn well why you shouldn't be here. It was your idea, not mine."

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. His jaw set, he grabbed an elegant cane with a golden handle that rested next to the chair and heaved himself up. She eyed it with distrust.

"Did your leg malfunctioned?"

"Not my leg," he snarled. "the brace."

"When?"

"You damn well know when."

She looked him in the eye, jaw set.

"You're a liability."

From the corner of her eye, she could see his grip on the cane tightening. He bore his teeth at her, his voice dropping with his next words.

"Careful, dearie. You owe to much to me."

She looked him dead in the eye. Once her heart would have bitten wildly, now is was steady. She had spent too much time doing this job, and she no longer was his student, she was his boss.

"I don't own you anything, anymore, Gold. You, on the other hand, owe me your job as it is."

She had known him for enough years to know how he looked like when he wanted to break something. But he didn't lash out. His lips curled up in a mocking smile instead.

"Touché." 

He stepped away from her and limped to look out the window. She knew there was nobody out there. Other agents patrolled this area frequently, to make sure it was safe. It didn't change the fact that his presence in her home was dangerous itself.

"Why did you came here?"

"You know why - to see him." 

His back was to her, but she was able to see his reflection in the window. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but it was anything but. She shook her head.

"You can't keep doing this, Gold. He shouldn't even know about your existence, yet he knows how you look like, knows your name. It's not safe. It was your idea to keep him in the dark."

She had almost shouted the last sentence. She wanted to grab him and shake him. Deep down, she knew why he had come, but she also remembered that day, over ten years ago, when he had come to her with a small bundle in his hands asking for her help. She would be damned before she let him mess it all up. 

His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I know."

"I'm signing your resignation later."

He turned around so fast she had almost taken a step back. She stood her ground even when his face had twisted in a mix of fury and betrayal. She knew she had to tell him, and he would be mad, but there was no way of softening the blow.

"What?!"

"You heard me."

"I didn't write any resignation letter!"

"Control yourself, double-o-seven. You didn't have to."

"You can't fire me, M. Double-os, don't retire."

"I can arrange a bullet to your head if that sounds better to you."

"Regina - "

"Don't. You're not fit for duty. Hell, you haven't been for a long time, but I pulled strings for you. No more."

"You can't do this. I've promised - "

"It's been ten years, Gold. MI6 will no longer be your personal shortcut for petty revenge!"

He was standing still, knuckles white from the death-like grip on his cane. If a look could kill, she would already be dead. 

"You call it petty revenge? You have no idea how it feels like." 

His voice dropped even lower, his accent heavier, somehow he seemed more dangerous that way than when he had shouted. That was why he had been so efficient. He didn't need to punch the leaving daylights out of the suspect he just knew what buttons to press. Or so he used to.

"No, I don't and I hope to never to find out, but it's been TEN. YEARS. This can't go on."

"Those responsible are still out there. We're too close to finally got them all."

"Yes, but they don't know about Henry. If they did, we would have known. I got it handled, MI6 no longer needs your services in that regard."

"So what, you want me to send a postcard to his mother, then? 'They fire me, so it's safe to come to your son?' That sounds just grand."

"I am his mother."

He cackled humorlessly, wiggling his finger at her.

"So this is what's it all about, isn't it?"

"You know damn well it's not," she shot back. "You messed up, Gold, a big time. The board was furious - Blue was ready to skin me alive and hang me out to dry. You were lucky the codes were right, or it would have been much worse. You would have known if you showed up. How did you get Locksley to get you here?"

He shrugged his shoulders and dared to smirk, the bastard.

"He owned me."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Of course he did."

He paced around her leaving room, the tapping off his cane muffled by the rug. His shoulders were stiff, and he looked like he could snap at any moment. Come to think of it he had looked like that for quite some time.  
She sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I'm doing this for your own good."

He scoffed, then turned pointing his long, index finger at her.

"No, you're not. You're doing it for the board, for your own good, not mine. We both know Blue hates my guts, the feeling's mutual by the way, but you can't say I'm not doing my job."

He reached the armchair he had been seating in earlier with two long, limping strides. He bends down and pulled something from behind it. It was a black backpack. He all but threw it at her.

"What is this?"

He planted the cane firmly before him, leaning on it with both hands, his expression carefully blank. Slowly, she unzipped the backpack peering inside.

"Nottingham's laptop. Unless you developed a degree in computer engineering or something like that overnight, it's useless, but Q should manage. She likes challenges like these."

She could feel a headache coming from a mile away now.

"Why didn't you bring it earlier?"

He looked her dead in the eye. For the life of her, she couldn't read his expression.

"I hoped you would have a little faith in me. Turns out I was wrong."

He turned his back to her and moved towards the door. God, why he had to be like this?

"Gold - " he didn't turn but at least he stopped. " Nolan's in a coma, I thought you would like to know."

He didn't say anything for some time, and she was afraid he would exit her house without a word.

"Why would I care?"

_Because, you had come here._

"Because if you took your time to pull your head out of your arse sometime, you would find people are caring about what happens to you too, it's nice to return the gesture."

Something slightly shifted in his posture, as if he read between the lines of what she had been saying. His head was slightly turned, maybe it was because of the shadows playing across the visible portion of his face, but she could have sworn, she saw a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I didn't come to speak before the board because I would have thrown the damn laptop at the Blue Bug's head, and whatever evidence there had been may have been unsalvagable."

She actually smirked at that.

"I would have paid to see that."

He shot her a small grin over his shoulder.

"Maybe next time."

He reached for the doorknob, twisting it. The glow from the streetlamp illuminated her corridor, playing ominously on his figure as he opened the door.

"Double-o-seven," she stopped him before he crossed the threshold, "Have that brace fixed."

He threw her a mocking salute.

"Yes, ma'am."

Only in his mouth, it could sound like an insult. She sighed, not being able to relax just yet. Sooner or later, Gold's going to be the death of her. She just hoped it wouldn't be because he had died.

************************

She would find a way to get free and run away. She can't do it now they would have found her anyway. It wasn't a matter of if but when. For now, she would have to play her part. 

Dressed in her shortest shirt, she made her way to the casino. At the door, a woman dressed in white furs with a simple sequin, black dress beneath the coat could be seen. The dress matched the black highlights in her while hair.

"Remember your job, Darling. I don't care how you feel, but I do care about the money you make," she said while puffing the smoke from the cigarette that she held in a holder between her fingers. "You smile, and look pretty. No smart talk unless you're sure it makes a profit. Now, to work with you."

She knew that pep talk by heart by now. One day she would shove it down the woman's throat. For now, she smiled provocatively and turned away to enter the casino with her hips swinging. She had a job to do.


	4. Chapter 2: The Deal

"Pants off."

He raised his right eyebrow slightly, shooting her a crooked, ironic smile.

"Who could have refused such a request."

She levelled him with a look, not even slightly impressed. It had always been like that - junior agents cowered before her stare every time she had glared at them from above her small framed glasses. He never did. Maybe that had been what annoyed her the most - that or the fact he had destroyed almost every gadget ever given to him, and he never seemed sorry for that ever. Or he was just a smug bastard, and she was allergic to the likes of him.

"Hilarious as always, Gold. Now, pants _off_ ”

He sighed but didn't drop the smirk as he unbuckled his belt. Q stared him dead in the eye, her hands on her hips as if wanting to say she didn't have all day for his bullshit. One could love Granny Q. 

Gold stepped out from his trousers and hobbled to the examination table. He slowly removed his shoes and socks then laid down with a grimace. Q frowned upon seeing the mess that was his shank and ankle.

"Want to tell me what exactly did you do this time to screw up my work?"

"Ever thought about making it kick-proof?" 

She shot him a glare from where she was preparing her tools.

"I did," she answered drily. "You managed to broke it anyway. Again."

"Not my fault it was flimsy in the first p - Argh!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did it hurt?"

Gold glared at the older woman while biting hard on the inside of his cheek, drawing blood. She tugged some more with her wrench, making him grunt while she looked extremely pleased with herself. In moments like this, one would doubt they had mutual respect for one another. 

He let her work in silence, focusing on regulating his breathing. Truth be told, he was thankful. The innovative brace had been her idea. Without it, he wouldn't have been able to walk unaided, and his work as a field agent would have been off the table. 

"You did a number on it this time."

He propped himself up on his left elbow, wincing as she rewired the mechanism as it sent an electric impulse to his nerves. He hated that thing even if without it, he would have been crippled.

"Are you done? As enjoyable as this visit had been, I think I must be off."

Q wrapped the final piece just below his knee, then slapped shut the control panel near his shin. The parts connected to the bolts fused with his shattered bones and glowed a soft blue light before dimming and finally stopping. He could feel the exact moment when the brace started working. The pain diminished, and his foot snapped into the more natural angle. 

"Ruby, get me the shaving kit."

Gold couldn't help but grimace. Just Brilliant. Q's assistant, who was also her granddaughter and possibly the one replacing the older woman sooner or later, was just what he had needed. One of them was bad enough - two was almost sure to give him a headache. 

The young woman approached them with a flirtatious, lopsided smile. She took her time measuring him with her eyes from head to toe, before handing her grandmother a small bag.

"Double-o-seven."

He nodded politely, not taking the bait in her voice. "R." He just wanted this humiliation to be over, trying to look as natural as one could while lying on an exam table with no pants on. "So what's that? You plan to shave me?" He asked the older of the two while furrowing his blow.

"Well, I could." R deadpanned next to him, and he had to try really hard not to get the hell away from here like right now.

"I'll be sure to call the next time then." 

"I may hold you to that." She had those humorous sparks in her eyes that told him she wanted to get more to her grandmother than him. He smirked at that.

"Would you two please stop before I regret giving birth to my daughter?" Gold's grin broadened, his gold tooth glittering in the light. R shook her head, not looking sorry at all.

"Take care of the brace this time, double-o-seven. Nobody is keen on rummaging through your bones again."

He suspected there were a few.

"Will try, R."

Ruby shot him one last teasing smile and walked away her hips swinging seductively. Rolling his eyes, he thought that sometimes he dreaded the moment when the girl would take over. 

"Still sure you want to retire, Q?"

Granny shot him a look, then unceremoniously dumped the little bag on his lap.

"Take a good look, Gold. These may save you some trouble in the future."

His curiosity peaked, he unzipped the bag and looked inside. At first glance, it contained what looked like a regular shaving kit. Old-fashioned, but not out of the ordinary. He knew better but raised his eyebrow anyway.

"Something's wrong with the way I clean up?"

"These are for your leg."

"I thought everybody did waxing these days."

"I may wax you alright if that's what you're into these days."

Gold grimaced at the mental image and wished he hadn't opened his mouth in the first place.

"As much as I know you would enjoy my suffering; I'll pass. Now, what are those really for?"

Q sighed and with a couple of swift movements, she transformed what was in the bag into modern-looking tools. He raised an eyebrow at her amused.

"Wouldn't it be easy to give me a normal tool-box?"

"It would if your brace was a normal one, and not a technical miracle and your liability," she answered mildly annoyed. "Besides, you can also use them to hack computers. The razor has two ends."

"Quite useful, I'll give you that, but why do I need something for the brace?"

"Because, Gold if it breaks again, you're done." He didn't like the look in her eyes. She was deadly serious now, and he felt as if someone had purred a bucket of cold water over his head. He swallowed hard, making his expression carefully blank.

"How done are we talking?"

"As you won't be able to walk on that leg normally ever again." She let the information sink before continuing. 

"The titanium bolts and plates that are keeping your bones together and are fused with external mechanisms are failing. It would be fine if you were just walking like a normal person, but you're not. You broke the brace four times, Gold. After every time your bones were worse off than the previous one. The next one will be the last." 

She gathered everything back into the bag except for the shaving brush. Gold kept his gaze focused on her. He knew it was severe. He had known the moment his leg had flared in pain in Italy. Every day since then, he could feel the metal inside him move. Q held the shaving brush in front of him, turning his attention back to the present moment.

"If the worst came and you would break it, you press here, "she pressed on to the handle just below the rim. The base moved aside, revealing two metal spikes, "you connect it to the main panel above your ankle. You got it?"

"What will it do?"

"Couse an override in the system. The bolts will tighten, and you will walk. Temporally but still. What's in the can with the shaving foam will dull the pain."

He nodded, taking the shaving brush from her, putting it in the bag with the rest. She stepped away from him, and he got down from the table, standing steadily on his two feet. 

"So I won't have to crawl from the place but run the fuck away, right?"

"Hopefully. I don't know how long the override will work."

He buckled his trousers, then retrieved his shoes. A low, mirthless chuckle escaped from his lips as he started to lace up the shoelaces on his right.

"Believe me, dearie," He moved to the other shoe, "I'll do my best to keep my leg for as long as I have to get the people on my naughty list."

"Oh, yes, that puts my mind at ease." 

He grinned toothily while getting up, taking his time to put and straighten his jacket. 

"You know what they say, Q. I'm a tough bastard to kill."

"Anyone can be killed, Gold. That includes you."

He waved a hand dismissively at her. He had heard it too many times. 

"Get in line, dearie. M is keeping the first spot in that regard. Now if you excuse me."

He scooped his cane up, spinning it in his hand, finishing with a mocking salute, tugging the shaving kit under his arm. Without another word, he made his way towards the door.

"Double-o-seven."

Gold turned just in time to see a black object flying his way. Quickly and almost simultaneously, he passed the cane to his other while catching the thing with his right one. It was a shiny new pistol.

"9mm Walther PPK/S. It's tied to your fingerprint so no one else can shoot it." The older woman smiled smugly, hands on her hips. "I heard you complained about your old one."

"Much appreciated, Q."

With a nod of thanks, he left the lab. There was a light spring to his pace, even if Q's warnings were still ringing in his ears. It was his last shot. There was no way he would get the most hated person in his life with a busted leg. There would be no next chance if his next mission went south. Well, considering what Regina had told him yesterday, he already was closing to the finishing line. Without the MI6, it would be almost impossible to get his revenge. Not that he had made much progress in those ten years. Oh, he did get nearly all of them. Almost. The most important person was still out there. Gold hated that fact, but he hated himself for it more with every passing day. He had given a promise. He intended to keep it even if it killed him. Somewhere in his mind, not also buried very deep, was a thought that he hoped he would.

Quicker than he had expected, he had found himself in front of M's office. Somewhere along the way, he had left the shaving kit and his old gun in his locker. He didn't remember doing it, but now he stood in front of Regina's door with just his cane in hand. He kept holding on to it even if he didn't need it now. Ironic. 

"I always said that cane really suited you."

Gold stopped with his left hand outstretched, hovering over the door handle. That voice he hadn't heard for quite some time. His mouth twitched slightly, almost smiling before he could stop himself. His hand fell back to his side, and he twisted to his right with a smirk.

"Oi, you moved! And I had such a nice view!"

The smirk winded to a toothy grin as he spotted the man sitting behind the computer. "Jefferson, I see the doctors had finally had enough of your charming personality and let you go."

The other man grinned up at him before he stood up from his chair. There was a fresh bandage wrapped around his neck, hiding the ugly wound he had received on his last mission. Being almost beheaded didn't change his attitude, though. Jefferson was dressed in a pale blue suit with an ugly colourful, bright tie that didn't match it at all, not to say the striped shirt underneath. The attire wasn't surprising at all. Jefferson had always preferred striking colours and questionable fashion choices that made him look like a peacock at least in Gold's book. He didn't care about what people were speaking about him, and Gold respected that a lot. Although he would do without being constantly hit on by the other man, he suspected Jefferson was taking pleasure in annoying him with that every time he got.

"Oh, you missed me, Gold?" He touched his hand to his chest, still grinning. "It warms my heart."

"In your dreams, Jefferson."

The younger man looked him up and down, then raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

"Yes, please."

Gold just scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Jefferson, I had enough innuendo from R already. Could you please spare me before I would have to have a memory wipe?"

"And where is fun in that?" Gold shot him a look, and the other man chuckled, raising his hands. "Alright, I give up. Here, you should have it."  
He handled Gold an unmarked envelope. "I'm stuck as M's assistant for the time being." He answered to Gold's questioning gaze. "It's Nottingham's file."

So, they had managed to decrypt the laptop. That meant Gold still had the job.

"Anything interesting in there?"

"M will fill you up, but the autopsy revealed nothing. There were no fingerprints on the laptop or anywhere near it beside his."

"The laptop?"

"Q had worked her magic on it. It seems you still have the job."

There was understanding in Jefferson's eyes as he locked his gaze with his. Gold nodded once. No words were necessary.

"Thank you, Jefferson."

"Just doing my job." Gold grasped the file in his left hand and turned towards the door.

"Gold? I'm going to the medical ward later. You want me to pass something?"

Gold gritted his teeth, tightening the grip on his cane. The man was too perceptive. Or they just knew each other too long.  
He reached into the inside pocket of his suit to produce two envelops and handed them to Jefferson.

"The second one - "

" - I did it before. She'll get it."

Gold nodded once and without another word walked towards M's door, pushing at the handle without knocking. He trusted Jefferson to forward his messages to the right people. The other man was the only person who knew where to find one of the recipients. Even Gold didn't know where she was now. It was for the better.

"Nice of you to finally show up, Gold. It's not like you should have been here two hours ago."

Regina didn't even look up from the documents she was currently signing. He was probably the only person barging into her office like that. 

"I live to disappoint. I had more pressure matters to attend to, dearie." 

She shot him a nasty look, then put the paper she was reading to the side.

"Is it fixed at least?"

"Well, I'm walking, aren't I? I may suggest wearing glasses if you can't see the difference."

"So the cane's just for show then?"

He grimaced. "A temporary setback I assure you." As to prove it, he tossed the cane to grasp it beneath the handle and walked to her desk, unaided. His step didn't falter, and he managed to keep his face impassive even if his nerves were still sending little spikes of pain every other step. 

He sat in the chair, throwing the folder on M's desk. "Jefferson said I have a job." 

Regina looked as if she swallowed a lemon. She gestured at the folder on her desk.

"You want me to believe you actually read it?" He flashed his teeth in a grin as an answer. "Right, why do I even bother."

M stood up from her chair and approached the wall to her right. She touched it with her hand, revealing a small panel on which she punched the code. In the place of the wall, a big screen had appeared. 

"We didn't manage to salvage much from the hard drive, but what we did was enough. Take a look at this."

Gold leaned forward, eyes focused on the screen. His eyebrows slowly climbed up to his hairline then a satisfied half-smile appeared on his face.

"We were right."

M nodded.

"Killian Jones. Now, we can finally get a move."

Gold grimaced and shook his head.

"He's just a pawn like Nottingham was."

"A pawn he may be, but a valuable one. Look, I managed to get Blue off your hair, but it's temporary."

"So, you're firing me."

"Gold - "

"Spare me the false pity, Regina. I get it."

"No, you don't _get it_." She turned and strode to stand in front of him. 

"Rest assured. I'll do my job, and then you won't have to look at my face ever again."

She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Until they find your body, that is."

He scoffed. "Well, it won't be your problem, will it, dearie? Now," he stood up, manoeuvred around her to stand next to the displayed photos. "Who's this woman?"

He tapped the screen in the place where a woman's face was visible. Her image was the second thing after Jones he had noticed.

M shook her head, grimacing.

"We ran a facial recognition program on everyone. It couldn't identify her."

"Interesting." 

She was visible on numerous different frames, always in the background. The photos were fuzzy and black and white, but it didn't change the fact she looked pretty, even from that angle. He didn't know why, but he felt strangely drowned to her. You could almost miss her in the crowd, but his eyes had found her practically immediately. 

"Most of those photos were taken in the exclusive casino or a hotel belonging to it - 'The Underground'."

Well, that didn't sound ominous at all.

"The owner?"

"Cruella De Vil. In all probability, she's just a stand-in for someone else. Your job is to find this out."

He turned on his heel, finally tearing his gaze from the blurry image of the mysterious woman with a displeased look.

"Hardly a job for a double-o."

Regina moved around her desk and sat down in the chair.

"It's what it is. You go in, get the information and get out. Nothing more, nothing less."

"That's where you're mistaken, dearie." He slowly approached her and put both his hands on her desk, glaring. "I will see this whole case to an end - with your blessing or not. You know why - someone out there is continuing his work."

"You don't have the evidence."

"I was right about Jones, wasn't I?"

"That's beside the point. Your job is to find out what a human traffic dealer seeks in a casino. That's it. The Board - "

"Fuck the Board!" He slammed his hands on the desk, sending the papers flying to the floor. "Since when are you taking orders from those posh bastards like a lovesick puppy? Who you're going to send in my place? Locksley?"

She shot him an annoyed look.

"I know he's not ready. You don't need to remind me. Have you finished your little tantrum?" He sat back in the chair, shooting daggers from his eyes. "If you let me finish, there would be no need to throw my things around."

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms.

"All right, I'm listening."

"Good. _Officially,_ you'll just fish for information."

"And unofficially?"

"You do what needs to be done. I'll take care of the Blue Bug, but when she and others demand your head - you're on your own. That's as much as I can offer and hope not to have your dead body delivered to my doorstep."

"That would be a mess to clean."

"Exactly."

They sat in silence, neither looking at one another. Gold wondered when was the last time they had a conversation that ended without them shouting or one of them losing patience. 

"Look - "

"You're afraid I will kill Jones, am I right? I won't."

"No. I don't want you to get side-tracked." She snapped. "This case has been open for too long, and it already has been personal. Those people were dormant for years, we could track Jones, and finally, here he is. Ate the same time, the most important person on the Board is out for your head, again." She looked him in the eye, leaning forward. "There is something weird going on, Gold. A human traffic dealer, a terrorist and children going missing in the zones where said terrorist was active, it sounds too familiar." 

"If you suggesting I didn't do my job properly - "

"That's not - "

"He's dead. I've killed him, checked for a pulse - he was dead."

"I'm just saying you can't get side-tracked. Coincidence or not, we're too close to finally closing that case. I meant what I said in my flat - MI6 is not a means to an end for your vendetta."

Gold drummed his fingers on the armrest, looking mildly annoyed. "I repeat what I said, dearie - I'll do my job, but if it makes you feel better, I can offer you a deal."

"Oh?" M raised one eyebrow at her, a corner of her mouth twitching.

"I won't kill Jones, and I won't fallow the leads not connected to the main objective. In return, you'll keep the Board and our favourite member away from my case."

"Not sure that's an equal exchange."

He shrugged.

"I'll bring this case to a close, and your son will be safe, does that equal enough for you?"

"How long I'll have to keep you around? Another ten years?"

The left corner of his lips lifted slightly in a cunning smirk. His eyes were cold as a steal.

"Somehow, I doubt it. Do we have a deal?"

She eyed him for a moment, weighing her options. Finally, her mouth twisted, not entirely pleased.

"All right. Don't get killed."

He smiled a wolfish grin. The last part was never part of the deal.

*********

There were very few things she had liked about working in the casino, but one of them was free drinks. She had found very early on that she had a strong head for spirits, and it turned out to be very useful in her new job. If whatever she had been doing for those past years could be called a job. She most certainly didn't plan on stealing from who had turned out to be some sort of a mob boss - she still wasn't so sure about the things he was doing. He was calling himself a businessman, had connections she wouldn't dare to dream of and secretly run a lab even she didn't know what was going on in there. He had given her a choice then - she could die or live and work for him, which all things considered wasn't a choice at all. He had promised not to hurt her as long as he did her job, so she had agreed. She signed the deal not paying much mind to it, was given a new identity and started a new life. A life she needed to quit, but she knew too many secrets to be set free. One of those secret was how much this whole place was just for show, a cover-up for something far more menacing than an illegal hazard.

"We haven't seen you for a while here, Darling. I almost thought someone got rid of your scruffy self."

"It pleases me to say that my handsome face is still here, Luv."

Lacey hated Killian Jones. There was something about that man, that had sent her skin crawl every time he visited the establishment. But she had to keep close to him. She was there to listen. Cruella asked questions, Jones answered them, but Lacey was the one relaying all of those to their employer, this, and all of the little things - she could always tell when others were not necessarily telling all the truth. Her employer was a patient man, but he too had his limits, and lately, he wanted to have results sooner rather than later.

Lacey plastered a flirtatious smile on her face while maintaining the eye contact with the dealer as she bent to put a glass of rum in front of him. She could feel his gaze travelling down to her neckline and even lower. 

He would seek her later in the evening, and then she would get the information she needed. And if she were lucky she would learn something more. Something that would give her a specific bargain chip to earn her freedom. If she learned to who went the boys traded by Jones and how this connected with her employer maybe, just maybe she could be free.


	5. Chapter 3: Empty Eyes

The room was cold and dark and damp. A lone lightbulb was swinging from the ceiling, illuminating a turned over chair with bloodstains on its surface. Somewhere, droplets of water were slowly tapping on the concrete floor, making it the only noise beside a singular, ratling chain in the distance. 

Gold was lying on his side in a pool of blood. His leg was on fire, his throat sore from screaming, and eyes red from crying. There were red, raw marks on his wrists, his suit was torn in many places, but he couldn't care less for that. Just out of his reach lied a body, partly hidden by the shadows. The room was dark, but he could still see it as if it was the only illuminated thing visible. 

He couldn't reach it. He wanted to do so so badly, but couldn't. Every twitch, every small movement of his body was sending him almost over the edge out of agony. It was ripping him apart. Tearing him into pieces. Blinding him. 

But he crawled.

_I'm sorry_

Yes, he crawled.

_I'm so sorry._

His bones were moving inside his body, fracturing, snapping, ripping his flesh open with every move. 

_Please._

He opened his mouth to scream from pain, frustration, anger and helplessness. No sound came out. 

He couldn't scream.

But he could crawl towards the bloodied, unmoving body. 

_Please, forgive me._

Towards glazed over eyes looking at him, unblinking and empty. 

Gold tried to scramble to his feet, but he couldn't even move anymore. The pain in his right leg was almost unbearable now, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. 

_Forgive me._

A burst of delighted laughter echoed in the distance as he collapsed face down on the floor.

Gold bolted upright from his bed, panting and covered in sweat. His heart was hammering painfully in his chest, and his mind was still too caught in the images of the nightmare to slow it down. He was gulping for air, his lungs screamed at him from the lack of it, and he couldn't stop shivers from wracking his whole body. He lunged from the bed, almost falling as the shits tangled between his legs, feeling bile rising in his throat.

Gold stumbled towards the bathroom, the pain in his leg just a phantom now, but so real the moments earlier. It had been real enough to make him limp even though the brace on his right leg worked perfectly fine. He managed to run the water from the tap and splatter it over his face with his shaky hands.

He still couldn't breathe properly.

Gold put his hand on both sides on the sink and leaned on them heavily. He was shaking, and he couldn't help it. The more he tried to forget, the more clearly he remembered. 

The screams. The blood. The smell. And those eyes. Especially those eyes.

A sob escaped his mouth. First one, then another and soon his whole body shook from the force of the pain that still lingered deep inside of him. 

His legs couldn't hold him up anymore, and he crushed to the ground in a sobbing heap. He sat on the cold tiles letting himself be a mess for once. The nightmare didn't come as frequently as before, but it still hurt just the same. The gaping hole in a place where his heart should be, his emotions raw, he didn't have the strength to resist the pull now. Twisting fingers in his hair and pulling hard Gold sobbed. Just this once, when no one could see him - in the morning, he would be back on the road from the cheap motel room, now he needed to let himself weep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone wondering when Gold and Lacey are going to meet - next chapter it is! I'll try to share it next week - two tops. The dream sequence worked better for me as the separate chapter, even if a short one.  
> As always, I would love to hear what you think of the story so far, so if you can spare a moment for a comment - that would make my day :)


	6. Chapter 4: The Assigment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know - it's been a month... Real life kept messing with me, but anyway here's the new chapter and I really hope it won't be that long before the next one, but I can't promise that *sigh* Hope you enjoy this one!

The day was too sunny, and he was glad for his new sunglasses the moment he left his room. The dark lenses kept the sun from blinding him but did nothing to stop the already present headache from building up. To the outside world, Robert Gold looked perfectly fine - dressed in a pristine, black suit and dark, blue shirt but inside he was still feeling the aftereffects of his rough night. He hated the times the nightmare was coming back - the aftermath was always the same, leaving him feeling worse than he would have with the worst hangover ever. After all those years, he couldn't tell how much of it was conjured my his mind and how much of was a memory. The borders faded a long time ago.

The landscape blurred together after hours of travel. Still, Gold couldn't care less as he rolled down the window of his faithful Cadillac an hour into the journey in hope the pain behind his eyes would disappear with the wind. He had this car for over twenty years now. Call him sentimental, but he couldn't see himself driving anything else. Some of his most fond memories were associated with this car, and Gold wasn't known as someone who let go of the past easily. After all, memories were all he had left those days.

The wind thankfully helped to calm his racing mind. It was to be suspected that he would be at the edge the closer he got to the destination, but he didn't need to like it one bit. As he tightened his hold on the steering wheel, his black, leather gloves cracked with the motion. In a couple of hours, he would arrive at the hotel, and he needed to think about his plan of action. The files were safely hidden in the glove compartment after he had reread them three times during the trip. He knew them by heart now and would have to burn them, preferably soon. The opportunity came at the nearest gas station, where he was the only customer. He burned everything in the trash bin behind the building, watching the papers turn to ash. Every one of them except off one photograph - the blurry image of a mysterious woman. She was important. He didn't know how, but she must have been - he's intuition was hardly ever wrong. With that thought, he hid the photo in the inner pocket of his jacket and after assuring himself no evidence was left in the bin, he retreated towards the car.

He got to test his theory about the woman three days after his arrival at the luxurious hotel. He had spent most of his time in the lobby watching every new guest from afar, taking mental notes of how they looked like and how they acted. Most of them had been normal, casual users of the casino. Still, there were others - wealthy businessmen with not so legal businesses. He had taken notes and photos of every one of them but had come up with nothing relevant to the case. Even more frustrating was, he hadn't seen Jones nor the mysterious woman even once. 

That was until this day.

Gold was seated in his usual spot in a comfy armchair, pretending to read the newspaper with a cup of black coffee sitting on a table. To be honest, the whole hotel looked for him like someone was trying a little too hard to make it look like taken out of encyclopedia on ancient Greece. It sure looked rich - from elevators decorated with gold to marble columns and everpresent weird looking plants in every corner. Still, to Gold, someone did definitely went a little overboard with it all. 

His musings came to an abrupt stop as a woman he had never seen here before exited one of the elevators. Not just any woman, but the one, who's photograph was still secured in Gold's pocket, of that he was sure. From the place, he was occupying he couldn't see her face, but her hair and posture were too similar to be a coincidence. He watched from over the newspaper as she approached and then leaned over the reception desk, chatting with the woman behind it. Something stirred inside him, something he wasn't able to name, and he didn't have time to dwell on the feeling as he focused all his attention on his target. The woman wasn't high - she would have probably been much shorter than him if not for her sparky, silver heels. The shoes suited her, just as the short, blue dress bearly covering her backside thanks to the way she propped herself on the desk. Her legs were crossed, one slightly raised, and Gold had to admit, she really had quite lovely looking legs. He couldn't hear the discussion that was ongoing between her and the receptionist, he was too far from them for that, but he knew exactly how to get what he wanted.

Gold stood up, putting the newspaper aside and unlocking his phone at the same time while making his way towards the elevators. His gait was swift, and he made sure to look down at his phone, focusing on it in the perfect pretence of a busy businessman. From the corner of his eye, he saw as the woman turned from the desk, saying her goodbyes, and marched in his direction, aiming for the exit. He smirked slightly, noticing she wasn't looking where she was going a all. He quickened his pace, turning just so slightly to the right so their paths could cross. Soon enough, he collided with his target.

"Oi! Watch where you're going!" 

His hands darted forward to stabilize her, protecting her from the fall as she swayed.

"I'm terribly sorry, miss."

He went for an apologetic tone, he had to keep her in place for a few crucial moments, preventing her from leaving just yet. His right hand was positioned on her forearm, his phone close to her small purse, she clutched tightly in her own hand, Slowly, he raised his gaze from the spot where his left hand still held her by the elbow. The moment his eyes met hers, all words left him. They were the prettiest shade of blue he had ever seen. For a split second, he was lost in them, pulled into the depths of the ocean he was unable to swim from. The woman's expression changed from annoyed to confused and then settled on somewhat challenging. 

"Found something you like?"

He let go of her, his hands feeling weirdly empty and cold. His phone vibrated slightly, and he flashed her what he hoped could pass for an apologetic smile.

"Sorry again, miss. Business can be distracting."

Slowly her gaze moved down from his face. It travelled down to his shoes and back up. She measured him, gradually taking her time, deliberately aiming to make him uncomfortable, clearly enjoying it. It took all of his willpower not to gulp - especially when her gaze settled for a moment longer below his waist. 

"Not only business," there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye emphasizing the double meaning of her words when she had finally met his eyes. "Haven't seen you before here."

He smirked at her, feeling challenged. Two could play that game.

"I'm new to the neighbourhood."

"Well, you should visit the casino, then. Good drinks, good company, and if you're lucky - you may play pool as the addition to the first two."

He raised his right eyebrow in amusement.

"Pool?"

She smiled while bitting on her lower lip, looking him in the eyes trying for an innocent look. He wondered how many times she had done this before.

"You know, one cue two balls and aim to the right pocket." She winked at him, then moved around him towards the exit. Gold's phone vibrated once more.

"Will I found you there? In the casino?" He called after her, and she stopped just before the door.

"Oh no," She smiled cheekily, "I'll be the one to find you."

He watched her go, long enough till he was sure she was out and not coming back. Well, that was interesting. She sure was forward, yet he couldn't help but wonder how much of it was just an act. As short as their conversation had been, there was something in her eyes, something that told Gold he was right about her. Now, he just needed to find the proof, and then maybe a visit to the casino was finally in order.

Gold unlocked his phone and smirked. Maybe now, he would finally get some information. He looked around and finding that nobody paid him any more attention than usual, he moved to the right elevator and punched the button, so he would get to the top floor. He carefully scanned the corridor after entering it. It was deserted, no soul in sight, and he was glad - it wouldn't do if he was spotted. There were cameras in the corners, one of them facing the elevator and he made sure not to glance its way, just walk casually ahead. 

The rooms on this floor must have been a lot more spacious than those below as there were visibly fewer doors present. He walked glancing surreptitiously on the numbers near top left corners of the doors, taking notes of the cameras in the way. It was quiet here, not even his steps could be heard thanks to the red carpet stretched across the ground, and Gold wondered whenever anyone else occupied the rooms, or they were just well soundproofed. Finally, he made it to the right door and positioned himself with his back slightly towards the farthest camera. He put his phone towards the card scanner and soon enough heard the sound of the door unlocking. He smiled to himself as he pushed on the door handle - it had been a gambit, bumping into the mysterious woman in hope she had the room card on her to scan it, but it thankfully paid off. Not looking back, he entered the room.

The door closed softly behind him. The room was spacious, much more than his own five floors below. The thing that most caught the eye upon entering was the balcony. It took the whole length of the apartment, one could exit it by the sliding door directly across from the entrance. The doors were slightly open, the wind moved the curtains along with the breeze. 

Gold looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary - the bed was perfectly made, with no clothes left lying around. He swept his finger across the top of the chest of drawers, grimacing when he came up with no dust on his fingertip. No dust meant it no fingerprints. From the look of it, there were no glasses or other items that he could use. There were no personal items visible on any surfaces. Frowning, he turned towards the bed, and a small satisfied smirk graced his lips. There, beside the bed, laid a book with a blue cover. It looked old and worn out - the image on the front all but faded, its corners bent. Gold picked it up carefully, intrigued. The letters where golden and what could pass once as an image of a knight stood next to the title. He had to squint his eyes to correctly read it. 

_Her handsome hero._

His right eyebrow lifted in slight amusement. That certainly wasn't a thing he was expecting to find when entering the room. He set the book aside and proceeded to look through the closets, making sure the items in them would stay in the same order. He came up empty-handed. The only thing of any value seemed to be the book. He couldn't deny he felt a little frustrated by that notion. He glanced back to the item in question then went to pick it back up in resignation. Gold riffled through the pages, noticing a couple of coffee stains here and there, underlinings and folded corners. The mysterious woman must have read it countless times. There was no signature at the front page, only one sentence written in lovely, curved handwriting. 

"Decide your fate." He read aloud. "What is your fate then, dearie?"

He pulled out his phone and snapped the photo of the sentence, then decided on one last shuffle through the pages. He was glad he did that. There - on the top of the page where chapter 7 began was a little bloodied fingerprint. It wasn't whole, but hopefully, it would be enough. Smirking he put the phone to his ear.

"I'm sending you two pictures, run them through the database and see what you can find," he said without a greeting as soon as the dial signal ended.

"And hello to you too," answered Jefferson all too jolly. "Care to share what you been up to, Gold? Haven't heard from you in a while."

"No sight of Jones as of yet. Got anything?"

"Decide your fate? You what to tell me something?"

"I'm following a lead."

"Hmm, did this lead led you to a woman's bedroom I wonder? I'm jealous." It took all of his willpower not to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"There is nothing to be jealous of." 

"What, you want to tell me she didn't want to rip that suit off you the moment she saw you? You know I would."

"Jefferson - "

"Didn't ask the girl about her name? Tsk, you're slipping."

"Do you have anything for the fingerprint or not?" He snapped at the teasing tone.

"If I say yes, would you go for a drink with me?"

"You want me to tell Humbert you tried to ask me out, again I may add?"

"He would have been more than willing to join, you know." Gold sighed, rolling his eyes. Why he was still subjecting himself to all of this was becoming a mystery to him.

"Why am I not surprised."

"Oh stop sounding so sour, I know you like me teasing you as much as I enjoy it."

"You're delusional."

"We're all mad around here. Hmm, that's curious."

"What is?" Gold's ears peaked at the change in the man's tone. 

"It looks like someone's been tinkering with the database. I would have to run this by Q, but I'm almost sure, that's the case."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean someone has erased any trace of the person that fingerprint belongs to. The signature and fingerprint connected to someone but the page turned out blank."

That wasn't good. Jefferson could be mistaken, but somehow he doubted it. The man's paranoia could equal his own, but he didn't throw accusations carelessly. Gold gritted his teeth. What if all of the setbacks they encountered throughout those ten years were due to the same cause?

"Gold, you know what that means?"

"Yes. We have a mole."

"We _might_ have a mole. But, yes. What do we do?"

He weighed the options. There was a limited number of people he trusted, but could he be sure none of them went rogue? M had to know, sooner or later, but something was holding him back from telling her just yet. Yes, he had trusted her all those years ago, but a lot has changed, and he knew there were things Regina would put over his wellbeing. If she was blackmailed, or worst - she was the one behind it... Even if he hoped she was not... No, he couldn't risk it.

"Gold?" Jefferson's voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"As much as I hate telling you this, you can't run this through Q." 

"Yeah, I gathered as much myself. M's out too, right?"

Gold sighed and turned his head towards the window. The weather was all too sunny for decisions like this.

"She'll know, just not yet."

"As much as I appreciate your trust in me, I can't do it alone."

"Don't you think, I know that?" He snapped. It was a mess, and he could get rid of the forboding feeling that settled deep in his stomach. What if it was Regina all those years ago? What if he gave up the second most important thing in his life into the hands of someone who had betrayed him? "We need someone from the outside."

"Well, I can think of one person -"

"It's out of the question, Jefferson."

"She'll be all too happy to help."

"I don't want her involved in any of this!"

"She's already involved, Gold!" The other man hissed. It was weird to hear him do so, but Gold knew even Jefferson had his limits. "Like it or not, she always has been."

Gold's mind raced. He knew Jefferson was right. It didn't mean he had to like it. 

"Give her the details. Delete the evidence afterwards and -" There was a tap at the door. Gold whipped his head around cursing under his nose. "I have to go."

He didn't wait for a replay, just terminated the call. Gold quickly moved towards the bathroom and turned on the shower just as the knocking repeated itself. He discarded his jacket on the floor, his tie and cufflinks rapidly followed. He closed the door behind him with one hand, as the other undid the top three buttons of his shirt. 

The knocking didn't stop. 

Gold untucked the shirt out of the trousers and messed his hair a little bit. Putting on a somewhat blissful - or so he hoped - expression on his face, he opened the door mind-knock. Outside stood a young man, or a boy in Gold's opinion, dressed in a hotel uniform with his hand still raised and ready to rap again. A surprised expression flashed across his face as if he wasn't expecting the door to open, or more likely, he wasn't expecting them to be open by any other than the correct occupant of the suite. There was nervousness poorly hidden in the boy's eyes, clearly indicating he wasn't working for long. Gold smirked inwardly - it made the situation all the easier. 

The boy didn't say anything, his hand still in the same position and Gold raised his right eyebrow slightly amused.

"Can I help you?"

The boy's mouth, which hung open till now, snapped shut, and he quickly dropped his hand and squared his shoulders. The act to look all confident was alas diminished by the fact he kept fidgeting with his jacket.

"I'm here to deliver the message, sir."

"Is that so, dearie? I'm all ears, then."

The boy's fidgeting became more pronounced. 

"It's - it's to miss French, sir." He stammered. 

Got you.

"Well, as you can hear, she's a little preoccupied at the moment. I believe I'm more than capable of relaying it."

"S-sir, I - I don't think - "

"Of course if you insist, you're more than welcome to join us," he said feigning boredom while leaning casually on the doorframe. "Although, I don't know how she would react to two men in her shower."

It was quite amusing, watching as the boy firstly paled and then went almost completely red on the face. And just as Gold suspected he all but throw the little note at him.

"No- No, sir! There is no need for that! Here's the message, sir."

Gold took the note and folded it, making it look he didn't care about the content. 

"Thank you, lad. Now, is there anything else you wanted? I have pressing matters to attend to."

"No, sir! Enjoy your day, sir."

Gold chuckled and gave the boy a generous tip. 

"For your trouble."

He closed the door before the boy finished thanking him. Swiftly he moved back to the bathroom and turned off the shower. Gathering his clothes, he redressed himself on his way back to the room. Soon he looked just as he had upon entering. Only then he allowed himself to smile. It went better than he expected, much better. 

_Miss French._

He chuckled as he taped the name to send it to Jefferson together with the photo of the massage. Gold doublechecked the room, but he didn't find anything more. He felt for his own apartment and packed the piece of paper into a small envelope. He made his way to the lobby stopping at the reception desk.

"I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, but could I leave this for miss French from room 402 to pick up later?" 

"Of course sir, no problem at all."

"Thank you."

It was almost nine p.m. when he left the hotel freshly dress to finally make an appearance at the casino. The massage to miss French repeating itself in his mind.

*******

She hadn't expected to be summoned to the boss for the second time this day, yet here she was on her way to the man's office. She felt nervous. Had he somehow learned that she had been a little more inquisitive than expected in the latest dealings? Had he suspected she was looking for a way out? She really hoped not. She knew now, that the dealings with Jones went for far longer than she had been working under Konstantinos Pantazis. There had been a time when Jones had to lay low, and they had renewed the transports only a few years back. From what she had gathered, something significant had happened around ten years ago. Lacey still didn't know what, but she had a strong suspicion about what Jones' usual cargo was. She didn't like it one bit.

Her mind was racing through the whole way, and it didn't help that she was almost sure someone had been in her room during her absence. She couldn't be one hundred per cent certain, everything had looked exactly the same as when she had left a couple of hours before, but the feeling of the room had been just wrong. She would have dismissed it if not for her book lying on the nightstand at a slightly different angle than she had left it.

That had been all she had needed to believe something wrong was going on. She couldn't help the nervous wipe of her sweaty palms against her dress before knocking against the wooden doors. When she entered, it was with a confident swing of her hips, her hesitation and fear deeply hidden behind the walls she so carefully had crafted.

"Ah, Lacey so nice of you to join us." 

The greeting sounded cheerful, but Lacey wasn't stupid. She knew how deceiving this man could be. He was lunging in his big, leather armchair with his feet up on the footrest, swinging a glass of red wine in his right hand. He was smiling, but it wasn't a friendly smile. Lacey was pretty sure he was unable to look anything but a shark he was. That spark in his eyes was the reason she needed to find a way out sooner rather than later.

It took her a moment to notice a second person in the room. Standing in the corner near the window, hidden in the shadows where the light couldn't reach, was a man. She couldn't see his face, but he seemed higher than her, his figure lean as he rested against the wall with arms crossed against his chest. Lacey tried not to squint her eyes, trying in vain to see more details. The last thing she had noticed before dragging her eyes back to her employer was an outline of sticking out ears.

"Is there a reason I'm here for the second time today, Mr. Pantazis? I have a job to do, a job you gave me." 

Pantazis' smile winded in amusement, his white teeth clearly showing even in the dim light. 

"Careful, Lacey. These mouth of yours will get you in trouble one day."

_They already had._

The man took a swing from the glass then put it down on the nearby table. He gracefully stood up, wiping the nonexisting dust from his sleeve then rounded the desk, turning the laptop in her direction in one swift motion. For a moment, Lacey's heart almost stopped, thinking her boss had to find something on her, but then he pressed the button and what she saw was a CCTV footage from the hotel.

"I have a new job for you, a very important one at that." 

She slowly edged closer to the laptop, not knowing what exactly she should look at. Then the image changed and focused on a man standing in the lobby. The frame froze at the exact moment he turned his face slightly towards the camera. Recognition flashed in Lacey's eyes. This was the man who had bumped into her in earlier that day. 

"Who's he?" she asked, intrigued.

"That, my dear," He moved around the desk to stand mere inches from her, "is something, you don't need to trouble your pretty little head about." He tucked the loose strand of the hair behind her ear, and she barely deterred an unpleasant shudder at the contact. His eyes looked now icy cold, all sign of humour gone. "You will learn what he's doing here and, when the time comes, deliver him to the right place I will provide you with. Gain his trust, and maybe I'll grant you the one thing you so desperately want. Now, go." She turned to the door, her heart racing. He had known, of course, he had. Could she really hope he would let her go? She gripped the door handle.

"And Lacey?" His voice made her stop and turn around. "If you mess this one up, I would be very disappointed. We wouldn't want that, would we?" The light from the street coming through the stained glass in the window shone on Pantazis' head, making his red hair look almost blue.

"It's good that I don't disappoint, then." _Lair._.

Konstantinos Pantazis kept looking at the door until he couldn't hear the sound of Lacey's heels. The woman was a liability, but it wasn't hard to guess which buttons he should press for her to dance to his tune. 

"I hope it won't backfire."

He didn't turn when the other occupant of the room moved from his shadowed spot to stand beside him. He had the face of a young boy, but looks could be deceiving. Especially in his case.

"I own her as much as I own you. I know my property."

The boy smiled a nasty smile.

"Well, in our case it's more mutual, isn't it? I got something you need, and vice versa. I dare to say, I already got what I wanted a long time ago."

"Ah, I'm so sad that the effects weren't temporary." 

It was hilarious, how the other man thought he was the one controlling the situation, Kostis thought.

"Are you sure he's who you think he is? It would be a shame to get rid of some random, useless human." He said aloud while he moved to pick up his previously abandoned glass of wine. The boy snickered, then shrugged his shoulders.

"I might have changed beyond his recognition in those ten years, but he didn't. That man is Robert Gold, and the fact he's here means your mole hadn't been effective."

Kostis grimaced in displeasure. That much was true.

"I'll have a word with them, don't you worry about that. They still want the same we both do, and better work for their keep. And as we talk about keep - is there any progress?"

The boy moved to the cabinet to pour a glass of wine for himself, nodding once as he raised the glass.

"The latest transport from Jones was promising. We're closer than we've ever been," he answered before standing in front of Kostis. "Even more reason to get rid of Gold for good this time."

Kostis flashed him a crooked smile.

"Lacey will take care of that or at least will delay him before delivering to the right place. If you're right, our friend would have been green with envy if someone else than her would get their hands on him." 

There was something predatory in the boy's eyes, a maniacal glint bearly hidden. Still, Kostis could clearly see it, and that delighted him to no ends. 

"To eternal life then," he said, raising his glass in a toast.

"Eternal youth," the other replied before clicking their glasses in together and his lips twisted in a nasty smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe it wasn't so hard to guess who's Lacey's employer ;) but anyway - Pantazis means "Live forever", or so the Internet told me. A feating name considering what he wants and who he is.


	7. Chapter 5: The Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song to which Lacey and Gold dance is "I put a spell on you" by Annie Lennox, so when you get to the moment feel free to play it in the background :)
> 
> Also as a side note, my exams are literally breathing down my neck so I don't know when I'll finish the next chapter - I hope it won't be a month, but I can't make any promises on that.

There were many dresses in Lacey's closet, but she found out quickly enough that she had around four favourite ones. One of them, the one she was wearing right now, was dark blue, almost black. It wasn't as short as the others, it still ended before her knee, but it quickly became her comfort dress, something that when the time was right reminded her of the clothes she had been wearing once as a different person. Even if she felt confident in all those other short dresses that bearly covered her backside, she still sometimes longed to be like her old self. 

Maybe soon she could be that person once again. Did she believe Pantazis that he would let her go? Probably not. But she would let him think she did while looking for anything that would ensure he wouldn't go back on his words.

The first time she spotted the man who was to be her new target, she decided to watch him and assess what she would be dealing with. Now, that she had time to look at him properly, she knew there was more to him than a simple businessman he claimed to be when he had bumped into her in the lobby. His eyes were sharp, intelligence lurking behind the surface when he thought no one was looking closely at him. He had a purpose, being here - a purpose that her employer was uncomfortable with. That itself made the man interesting enough. She even made it as far as to follow him to the hotel and learning his room number.

He was at the bar now, slowly siping his neat whisky. She could feel his eyes on her, as she mingled amongst the crowd. He probably thought he was subtle, but she wasn't stupid. She was almost sure he had his own agenda with her and was probably the one who had broken into her room. Was the reason he was so interested in her the same one why Pantazis thought him a threat? Well, if he were like any of the other guys, she would have him worked out in no time.

"Watching me again, I see?" The man jerked just so slightly, and Lacey bearly contained her glee at catching him unguarded when she appeared next to him. "A dry martini," she added, turning to the barman. "Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it's ice-cold, then add a large slice of lemon-peel. Two - for the gentleman over here and me. In deep champagne goblets. Got it, Isaac?"

"Of course, ma'am," the man answered with a pleased smile. 

Satisfied, she turned to the man seated beside her. He watched her closely, the whisky glass hovering in the air halfway to his mouth. There was a curious spark in his left eye, and the corner of his mouth twitched just so slightly. 

"That's generous of you, dearie, but I still have a drink to enjoy." 

She heard him speak before, but now it sounded different - the Rs rolled off his tongue in a more pronounced burr, and his voice sounded lower. Maybe he had masked his accent, but somehow in her previous haste, she hadn't noticed he was Scottish.

Not breaking the eye contact she reached for his glass, removed it from his hand and emptied it in one go.

"Now you don't."

The barman chose that moment to put the martini goblets in front of them. The Scot tilted his head in their direction with an amused expression. His lips parted slightly, and the light caught in what must have been a golden tooth.

"So it would seem," he said and picked up the goblet. He raised it to his lips to stop just before drinking from it. "Not my usual choice, to be honest."

She raised her own drink, taking a small sip still not looking away.

"Future favours the bold or so they say."

He grinned at her, slightly dipping his head in acknowledgement. His lips sealed around the rim as he tilted the goblet. Lacey watched as he kept the alcohol in his mouth, not swallowing it right away, favouring its flavour. It was the first time when she could watch him closely. Being so close their legs could touch if she lightly turned, it was tempting to run her foot she up his calf, but she decided against it - not yet anyway. 

He was older than her, his hair more grey than brown, but the look suited him - it made him look distinguish in a way. Something - she didn't know what - intrigued her, making her lean closer to him. She could tell there was more to this man than his looks in a perfectly tailored suit, something she couldn't put the finger on just yet. 

"Not what you expected?" She asked as he put the goblet on the counter, his tongue darting quickly between his lips wetting them.

"That reminds to be seen," he answered, not elaborating on the meaning.

He looked around the club before focusing back on her. The music changed to a slower pace, and she saw something flash in the man's gaze. He stood up abruptly and exchanged his hand towards her.

"May I have this dance?"

She raised her eyebrow intrigued. 

"I don't see a dancefloor anywhere," she answered yet exchanged her hand to let him pull her from her seat.

"Does there need to be one?" 

He led her away from the bar as curious gazes followed them, but they weren't the only ones deciding for this course of action. She caught Cruella frowning at her from where she smoked leaning against the column but chose to ignore it, focusing her attention on the man pulling her to the centre of the room. He took her hand in his while the other rested lightly just above her hip. She sneaked her arm around his shoulder, her fingers brushing the base of his nape. She felt him tugging her closer to him and couldn't help but smirk. She didn't mind the closeness one a bit. 

"Is this all you got Mr...?"

"Gold." He spun her around, trapping her with his hands as her back pressed hard against his chest. He lowered his head, so his lips almost brushed her ear. "Robert Gold." 

"Well, Mr. Gold, shall we begin?"

She felt his lips curl, and he spun her back while still keeping her close. They glided over the floor, their entwined hands near their faces, the world around them fading to the background. She felt enchanted with his intense gaze and couldn't tear her eyes away from him. They moved in sync as if they were made for this single moment in time.

Gold was light on his feet, moving with confidence, guiding her in small but precise steps. Even tho, she noticed he was putting his weight a little more on his left foot, it was bearly noticeable, only present when she focused hard enough to spot it. She filed that information for later as his hand brushed against the small of her back. 

She had danced before, but never like this. Never so close, she could feel the other person's heartbeat or the flex of their muscles beneath the suit. His touch was electrifying, burning her with intensity, she had never known before, and she really wasn't sure what was happening with her. It wasn't just a dance of their bodies. No. It felt as if at that moment, their souls had been joined. Something stirred inside her, something she had never felt before, something that seemed to wait just for this moment in time. Somehow she could tell his next moves, and somehow he knew how her body would react to just the right touch of his fingers.

It was both thrilling and terrifying. 

The next time he twirled her, she hooked her leg high around his hip, her hand resting on the side of his face as she pressed her body to his. She shivered as he caught her bare tight for balance.

"You have me on a disadvantage here, Miss," he whispered only breath away from her. His voice was husky, something raw and primal hiding in it, and she wondered if he felt the same as she.

"You can call me Lacey," she whispered back, only now realising how breathless she sounded. Gold smiled then. His hand moved behind her head, the other one encircling protectively around her small frame as he dipped her towards the floor over his knee with her leg still hooked over his hip.

"What a lovely name." 

Her eyes briefly flickered towards his lips before he straightened them both up. His hands slid to her hips while she wrapped hers around his neck. He bent slightly, touching his face to the side of her head as they swayed. She wanted to stay like this longer, but she knew it soon would end. It was weird - she didn't know this man, but she felt as if something had slipped into place. 

An unsettling feeling blossomed in her stomach as the thought that she had to let it go to gain her freedom crept into her mind. She wanted to explore this strange bond, but the dread that began to fill her couldn't let her focus on that. No, it was not her place to get attached. She couldn't afford that. 

"Can't say, I'm not charmed, Mr. Gold," she purred against his neck, covering her uneasiness.

The song slowly came to an end, and they stopped moving. Gold stepped away from her, but only so far as to take her hand in his. His pupils were dilated as he looked down at her with an expression she couldn't define. A storm of different emotions flicked in his eyes, too quickly for her to catch any of it before they disappeared.

"Not as much as I," he brought her hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss against her knuckles. "See you around, Lacey."

She watched him walk away. She should go after him, see what he planned on doing, that was her job, but she couldn't move. Not when the memory how it felt to be held like that still lingered in her mind. 

People were stealing curious glances in her direction, yet she didn't seem to notice them. Her eyes focused solemnly on Gold as he approached the bar, picked up his goblet of martini and then disappeared behind the corner.

What was that tug in her chest she had felt?

She needed air.

With that thought, she turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction.

****

His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he walked swiftly through the corridors. What the hell was that? 

What had started as a mean to watch Cruella de Vil as she exited the room somewhere in the middle of his dance with Lacey turned into something else eternally. He somehow managed to shot a tracker from his watch at Cruella, but only just - his head was buzzing and not thanks to the alcohol. 

One simple dance. That was all. And yet it hadn't been just a dance, had it?

He could still feel the ghost of her fingers on his face or the way how she hooked her leg around him. The touch burned him and that small devilish voice in his head demand more as his hand rested on the bare flesh of her thigh. He had never felt like that before. Never. 

It was unnerving at best, and he didn't like the feeling one a bit.

Even now he couldn't fully focus, and he knew he couldn't afford that - distractions usually meant mistakes. And Lacey French sure appeared to be both. Maybe it was wrong to concentrate his efforts on her, but he couldn't deny the weird pull he had felt towards that woman. 

It still lingered. Crawled under his skin intending to stay exactly where it wanted to, and Gold didn't know how to feel about it.

Somehow he managed to work out the lock to the door that the tracker had led him to and swiftly, without a second glance, he entered the darkened room. For a moment, he managed to push all the thoughts about Lacey in a compartment in his mind and throw away the key. It wouldn't hold, they would make their way up to the surface soon enough, but if he were lucky, he would complete the job at hand beforehand.

Minding his steps carefully as not to disturb anything that might be lying on the floor and could later indicate that someone unauthorised had been here, he approached the computer in the centre of the room.

There were no cameras visible anywhere - they probably thought the room was off-limits and impossible to break in to. He couldn't complain. Gold loved when others were too arrogant for their own good.

Not wasting time he put on the gloves then pulled out the razor from his pocket. He pressed the small button at its end, revealing a USB stick. He pugged it to the port and watched as the codes appeared on the screen, quickly hacking the computer. Gold sat down in a chair, twisting lazily from side to side as he followed the numbers with his eyes. 

Finally, the screen came to life, a single folder popping up. His mouth twisted in a satisfied grin as he leaned forward, his hand darted to the mouse to scroll through the content.

It was a gold mine. 

No names appeared on any of the documents, but if you knew what you were looking for, you could easily understand most of it. For the first time in days, Gold felt he was finally getting somewhere.

He had a date and a place.

Now, he needed to come with a plan to trap Jones.

He riched for the mouse again, but his watch biped indicating that De Vil had moved and was coming back to the room. Gold closed the files and unplugged the razor in a swift motion, watching as the screen went dark. He got what he wanted - now it was time for him to go. 

With one last glance around, he exited the room, balling the gloves and hiding them in his pocket to throw away later. It wouldn't do if somebody found them in a bin close to the place he had just broken into. 

There was a lightness in his gait. He felt excited for the first time in years - Yes, Jones might be just a pawn, but an important one. If he pushed him hard enough, he might finally get answers he had been looking for for years. He was getting closer, he just hoped at the end of that rabbit hole would be what he had wished for - fulfilment and peace. The hole in his heart would never be filled, but just maybe the hurt would become lesser. Perhaps finally he would be able to rest without dreaming of empty eyes filled with blame. Because there had been blame in there, no one could have convinced him otherwise.

He heaved a sigh as the elevator's door opened and he stepped out onto the corridor where his room was located. There was no point on dwelling on the past mistakes - there were plenty of new ones he could make.

And speak of the devil - his likely new one was leaning on his door, heels dangling from where she held them by the straps.

For a moment, he faltered in his steps, taken aback by her unexpected presence. She spotted him just in time when he corrected his stance, but from the look of it, she had caught the startled expression on his face as she smirked, pushing away from the doorframe.

"Didn't think you would get away with only one dance, did you, Mr. Gold?"


	8. Chapter 6: A Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And with that, you might have noticed the rating went up to M, so yeah Gold and Lacey get busy in this chapter. Is it good for them or bad? We'll have to wait and see.  
> Also, I changed the summary a little bit, and now I think it suits the general tone better.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

Emma Swan was a happy woman. Or at least she used to be. Once upon a time, she had been young and in love. Once upon a time, she had thought she had had it all. Up until the moment when she hadn't. When it all had been ripped away from her. 

No, Emma Swan wasn't happy. Emma Nolan was. But Swan got used to the life she had now and clung to the hope it would one day change as she had been promised it would. And well, she was good at pretending, even to herself.

Her parents probably wouldn't recognise her anymore, not after ten years of being always on the move when she could hardly recognise herself. Gone was the naive girl that had dreamed of family and calm life. In her place was a woman hardened by experience, not taking other people's bullshit. She was telling herself there was no trace of that young girl in her left, but that was a lie. She wouldn't be wearing the pendant on her neck or keeping the stack of letters under her bed if it were. Letters that told her everything about her boy she needed to know. That he was safe. That he was loved. 

It didn't change the fact she hadn't seen his face in ten years nor had been able to name him. Not only that. She didn't even know his name. And, on some days, it was crushing.

_"It's not only for your safety - it's for his."_

_"Yes, but it's our son, Neal's son."_

_"And that's exactly why he's in danger. You know it's right. I'll keep him safe, I promise."_

_"Yeah, I've heard that one before."_

_The words were meant to hurt. And they did. The look she was given in return was proof enough._

_"Emma, please."_

She had relented. Of course, she had. Ultimately she was the one they had known about and would be looking for. Getting her son away from her was the best she could have done. And yeah, she had promised to keep a low profile, but it didn't mean she would be nothing but waiting for the all-clear signal. She had been waiting long enough. Emma had never been subtle, and she knew she had a silent consent to do her work. It didn't change the fact she didn't expect to get a text message on her phone completely out of the blue - first text message in ten years.

She was out of the computer cafe after finishing her latest bunch of research, which unsurprisingly lead to nowhere when the phone in her jacket pocket buzzed. It wouldn't be surprising if it weren't the phone that no one should have a number to, no one but one person.

_Pick me up at the airport._

It was suspicious, but she went anyway. She didn't know what time the plane would land, and it took her precisely four and a half hours of waiting before she had spotted him. She had seen him only once before, but he didn't change much - still looking eccentric as hell. 

"Jefferson, I didn't expect to see you." 

"How do you feel about garden pests?" He answered without missing a beat with a slight curve of his lips, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"What kind?"

"The making hills one."

He didn't carry any luggage beside a shoulder bag that probably contained a laptop.

"Why now?"

He shrugged his shoulders. The terminal was busy with people, but no one seemed to watch them.

"Don't you want it to end?"

She watched him closely and instantly knew that whatever it was was big. She didn't need any further prompting. She nodded her head towards the side exit.

"This way."

*****  
Gold stood stocked still almost gaping at the woman standing in front of him. It took her six steps to reach him, and now she faced him with a small, perky smile. She was much shorter than him when she didn't have any shoes on, but she made it up with her confidence. She was looking up at him expectingly, right eyebrow slightly arched in a challenging manner. He searched her face for something he didn't yet know as his gaze stopped at her full lips.

"Did you lost the way to your room, miss French?" he asked, composing himself, or at least trying to.

She got even closer to him, their chests almost touching. There were small droplets of rain in her hair. Was it raining outside?

"No, I don't think so," her fingers traced over his tie, moving higher up to the knot and back down to the place where it was tucked under the vest. "The room I plan to get in is two doors down."

"Is that so?" He bent down to put his mouth against her ear. "It happens to be my room as far as I know."

"What a coincidence."

He smirked, before straightening back up and extending his arm in the direction of his room and wondering if this wasn't one big mistake. Somehow he couldn't feel guilty about it. She walked close to him, so close that her arm brushed against his, sending little shivers down his spine every time they touched. The only time she moved away was when he let her in after unlocking the door. 

She looked around the room curiously. Not that there was much to look at, there were even less personal possessions here than in her apartment couple of floors above them.

Gold removed his jacket and threw it over the back of the chair. He kept his back to Lacey, but he could hear the rustling of sheets as she sat down on the bed.

"Wine?" He asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

"I wouldn't say no." 

He nodded and moved to get the bottle and two glasses. The wine was red, it's colour rich, and even if he wasn't much for this kind of alcohol, it smelled of a delicate bouquet. 

Lacey lounged on his bed lying on her side, her heels neatly placed on the floor. She draped one arm over her stomach, observing him carefully. The small, curled strand of her hair had escaped from her hair up, and Gold had to resist the urge to tuck it behind her ear as he handed her the glass. She took it with a small smile, never breaking the eye contact. He couldn't read her expression. 

"Why are you here, miss French?" He asked, taking a sip from his glass.

"Lacey. Isn't it obvious?" 

She was toying with him, that much he was sure and Gold wondered how many times she had done it before. Was it always like this? He wasn't a fool. He knew she wasn't here because he had caught her eye. As he had said before - he couldn't get distracted.

"Well, I would tell you're here for information." 

There was no need to beat around the bush and to insult their intelligence. If Lacey was surprised by his remark, she didn't show it. Instead, she still looked utterly relaxed as she took another sip of the wine.

"Oh? Whoever for?"

"Your employer."

"And who's that?"

"You tell me."

She shifted on the bed, propping herself up with one hand into a sitting position with her legs still curled neatly to the side as her lips pulled into a mysterious smile.

"He doesn't tell me what methods to use."

"A 'he' then," he answered, smiling triumphantly, and she smiled back. Not a slip then, but a deliberate doing.

"I am my own woman, Robert. My choices are my own."

He took a step forward, his knees bumping into the edge of the bed. It had been ages since he had heard his name spoken out loud. He had always been Gold to others. There was no mockery in her voice as she had said it.

"Is that so?" 

Instead of answering, she had done something different, something he should have seen coming, but didn't. Her hand darted forward, clasping his tie and pulled him down. She crushed her lips against his without warning, showing him exactly what she had meant. Gold responded without hesitation, and he didn't know who was the first to open up for the other. The kiss became deeper, stronger, and a lot messier. He could taste the wine on her tongue as it brushed against his. It was intoxicating. She had his full attention from the way her lips felt against his to the smell of her perfumes entering his nostrils and blinding him.

She moaned into his mouth, and he heard the sound of breaking glass as his fingers loosened their hold on his drink. He didn't care. Hers was lost too if the presence of both of her hands on him was proof enough. 

She pulled harder by his tie, and his knees buckled. She led him further down the bed and laid down, beneath him. He couldn't stop kissing her. Without conscious thought, he moved from her lips to her neck, tracing down to her pulse point, sucking and licking, making her shudder. He buried one hand in her hair, twisting his fingers in them and tugging, making Lacey gasp and clutch her fingers at his sides. 

His other hand roamed over her hip then moved to grasp at her bare thigh, the feel of it burning him, demanding more as he made his way lower, kissing the visible skin between her breasts.

"This needs to go," he said his voice hoarse as he tugged at the hem of her dress. 

"This too," she panted while almost ripping the buttons from his vest with trembling fingers. They both threw the waistcoat away, and she started to pull his shirt out of his pants as he undid his cuffs. Her moves were frantic - inpatient even, but so were his.

This was a mistake, and he should have known better. There was a mission, a promise and the everpresent feeling of too little time. Something was coming, and he didn't yet know what. Something he was missing, and would probably pay for down the road. But he also knew one more thing - he wanted her. And by the look of it, she wanted him too. This, or she was far better at pretending than he had thought. 

Maybe it was one or the other. Maybe both. He didn't know. And didn't care. 

Soon she was wrapped around him, no barriers between them. Only their own bodies. Hot and sticky, and moving in sync. Touch for a touch. A kiss for a kiss. A moan. A gasp. A cry of pleasure. A job. A distraction. Nothing less. Everything more. 

Her fingernails scratched at his back, leaving small marks in their wake and her leg wrapped around his right one, moving up end down the metallic brace. 

Gold knew she wanted to ask - He kissed the question away from her lips. 

She would - he kissed her breasts.

But not now - she twisted her fingers in his hair tugging hard in pleasure.

Not yet - she pulled his face up and kissed him hard before his thrust made her gasp.

It was so similar to their dance a couple of hours before, yet more intense, more desperate. She clung to him, wanting to close what distance was yet to close between their bodies - rubbing against him, making him shudder.

_I am my own woman._

And she was. She wouldn't let him be in charge for long. A mischievous smile that he claimed with another kiss was the only warning he got before she pushed at his shoulders and toppled him over, straddling his hips.

She guided him towards her. And he couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped his mouth nor the buckle of his hips as she sunk onto him. Her moves were slow at first, but they didn't stay that way for long. She threw her head back in pleasure, and Gold knew he had never seen a more beautiful creature in his entire life.

They didn't speak. Speaking meant lies and half-truths. This was better. This was more true than everything - No targets - no revenge - no missions waiting for an end. Just two people lost in each other's desire, not knowing how wrong they both were in thinking it couldn't and wouldn't be anything more. They didn't know it yet, but they were too alike. Two lost, broken souls, chipped beyond repair. Or so they thought. All lies repeated long enough to become a reality. 

Lacey cried out, her back arching in pleasure as it washed over her. Gold's own soon followed, leaving his body tingling all over, still sensitive to her touches.

They laid now side by side, her leg thrown over his while her fingers brushed softly over small scars marring his chest.

"Did it hurt when it broke?"

"What did?"

"Your leg."

"Yes."

"Does it still?"

"Sometimes."

She brushed her foot softly over his calf mindful of the metallic parts.

"Does it now?"

He turned his head towards her, looking her in the eyes - so round and beautiful, yet full of past pain she tried to hide. 

"No," he answered. 

She watched him as if trying to judge whenever he was lying or not. Then a small, almost unnoticeable smile appeared on the corner of her lips. She dropped her head, kissing him on the chest.

"I'm glad," she whispered.

Gold tightened his hold on her, bringing her closer.

He didn't know how long they had been lying in bed when she felt her move away. She was careful in her movements like a cat stepping into the night, not knowing where the dangers lied. Slowly, she freed herself from his arms, then stopped to watch. The soft squeak of the mattress and rusting of sheets told him she had gotten up. 

Lacey didn't move away from the bed, and he knew she was watching him for any signs of wakefulness. He kept still, not giving himself away. Soon, he heard her soft footsteps as she moved around the room. She was good - he would give her that. The sound of opening drawers was almost unnoticeable. 

Gold slowly opened his eyes. The moon was clearly visible through the windows, basking the room in the soft light. A soft breeze moved the curtains that threw shade in their wake. It was a full moon. Gold didn' dare to make a move, not wanting to draw attention to him just yet.

Lacey had her back to him. She didn't bother to clad herself in any of the clothes lying around in a mess on the floor. Naked and bathed in the moonlight, she looked almost like a nymph, a beautiful, mythical creature that decided to walk amongst the mortals. 

He should have stopped her. He should have got rid of her. Gold had no illusions why Lacey was here - she was a distraction meant to lead him astray, just like a nixie. She was dangerous, but also could be a key to what he wanted. But what did he want? 

Maybe Regina was right; perhaps he was so lost that he saw ghost everywhere. He was living in the past for so long he had forgotten how to be in the presence, and up until those few hours before he had forgotten how it felt. To be alive. To exist. He wanted to feel this again. He could curse himself twice over, but hell he was so damn tired of it all. Would the revenge give him closure? He wasn't so sure anymore. 

Lacey was methodically looking through his things, and then she stopped. She was holding his wallet and looking intensively at what was inside. 

He couldn't get distracted.

Gold moved on the bed. The noise snapped Lacey back into action, and she turned around, still holding his wallet open. Even from where he was, he could see a corner of the crumpled photograph tucked safely inside. Lacey's eyes were wide and taken-aback before she carefully scolded her features behind the mask. She forced herself to relax, waiting for what he would do.

He couldn't get distracted.

"I didn't know tonight was paid," he said, not taking his eyes off her. 

The corner of her lips curved.

"You couldn't have afforded me."

They watched each other, both assessing their next move. Gold knew. He wasn't a fool. And he knew that she knew he did. Gold wouldn't put it past her if she at least suspected he had been in her room looking for clues as she did just now.

He couldn't get distracted.

But he was a fool.

So he did.

"How do you feel about a boat trip?"

He had caught her off guard. That much was certain as the little smile she had wavered. It wasn't what she had suspected. 

"To where?"

"Somewhere, we could be alone for a while."

She approached the bed with a swing of her hips, and he couldn't resist as his eyes travelled down her body. He swallowed hard before meeting back her gaze.

"Alone you say, Robbie?"

He flinched. He didn't mean to, but couldn't stop himself. Only one person had called him that. A wonder, how only a name could cause a reaction after all those years. Gold hoped Lacey didn't notice, but it was a fool's hope. She watched him closely, tilting her head.

"So that's off-limits. A girl needs to remember what not to call a guy she's about to spend some more alone time. When do we leave?"

It seemed they were either both fools or thought themselves incredibly smart. A distraction. A mistake. A liability. _He shouldn't do it._

"In the morning?"

She gave him back his wallet and bent down, claiming his lips.

"Then we still have some time," she said after breaking the kiss.

He smiled against her lips before kissing her back. He really hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

The wallet dropped on the floor as Lacey climbed on top of Gold. It didn't close. Inside, there was an old, crumpled photograph of a young boy, almost a man, with unruly hair smiling happily at the camera.


	9. Chapter 7: The Calm Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy to say that this fic is probably gonna finish within 6 more chapters! We're getting closer to the finale and this chapter is the last one before the pieces on the chessboard will really start moving, hence the title. The next chapter will be out in two weeks time - prepare for some revelations ;) As of now - happy reading!

Pantazis was a simple businessman, or at least he perceived himself as such. But in all his simpleness, the thing he hated the most was when his plans didn't go as planned. And that was precisely what had happened ten years ago. The chief scientist had been killed, hence throwing the project out of the window, leaving the bitter taste in Pantazis mouth and a couple of dead bodies behind. It had been only five years later when he had learned that the rumours about the man's death were very far from the truth. He was alive, albeit not the same person anymore, or more accurately, the same person, but in a different body. The experiment had worked, not in the way they hoped but worked nevertheless. And so they had resumed their work. More cautious this time around, but sure regardless.

But it had almost been ruined by one man. The same one, who was sticking his nose into his business right now, and Pantazis didn't like that one a bit. Robert Gold had been a nuisance and a dent in his plans for far too long.

Kostis looked towards the computer screen and after settling himself comfortably in a big leather chair, pressed the call button. It took three rings - the time allowed him to check over his well-manicured fingernails -before the person on the other end answered. Slopy.

"Hello, my dear. How's work?"

"It all runs smoothly, Mr Pantazis." answered the woman from the screen all too quickly and Kostis grinned. Good liar, she was not. Never had been, in fact.

"It's good to hear because imagine my surprise when I learned that none other than the man who was the reason for many headaches all those years ago is not only still on the job but also pocking his nose where he shouldn't be. What say you to that?" He watched her pale and gulp. Oh yes, he did enjoy that. "What's that, dear? Nothing?" he added when she didn't answer.

"M- M must have pulled some strings."

"Well, M's not the big bad boss, is she?"

"He shouldn't be there - "

"Oh, but he is," he looked to the side faking boredom, playing with a letter opener in a shape of a curvy knife he had spotted lying on the mahogany desk. "We'll get it from here. As for you," he flashed her a nasty smile. "That's the last time you fail any of us. Now listen closely, you take care of M. I don't care how - just do it, and I may let you breathe for a little while longer. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, sir."

"Good."

He terminated the call and stood up. He glanced at the little knife in his hand. Feeling the sudden rage bubbling up, he threw it at the nearest wall, and without looking back at it, he walked up to the window. 

Lacey had said that Gold knew where Jones was - that was the only explanation why he wanted to go for a boat trip. He would let the man have his little fun. Kostis wasn't a heartless man after all, but that would be it - the last taste of life Gold would have. Later, there would be only pain. He had made a mistake once letting the insufferable man live. He would not let it happen for the second time.

The knife wobbled slightly before stilling stabbed into the wall.

*

Lacey felt confused. The more time she spent with Gold, the more conflicted she seemed. He was, easy to say, a man full of opposites. He didn't play dumb, pretending not knowing that she was there gathering information on him; on the contrary, he had openly admitted that he knew and didn't care, letting her in - little by little but with each time more. And Lacey didn't even realise when she began to do just the same.

It was disturbing just as much as his gaze. He looked at her as if knowing the facade she was putting was just an act and Lacey didn't know what to do about it. She wanted a way out. This job would be the last one, and all she needed to do was to make Gold be in the right place at the right time. Simple job, then why did it feel less and less so? 

Just a week - that was all that she needed for her resolve to almost crumble. Only because through all those days, Gold treated her like a person and not a tool. It made her remember the person she had been before - the one with the different name that she thought had died inside of her.

"Why are you working for him?" Gold asked one day when they sat on the deck wrapped only in bathrobes watching the sea.

"Would you believe I don't have a choice?"

"I would actually."

She turned to him sharply, narrowing her eyes. It was difficult to see him in the dark as both of them decided against turning on the light.

"How?"

He shrugged.

"You looked sad. When you thought no one was looking."

She chuckled, trying in vain to mask how shaky that statement made her feel.

"But I saw you," he continued not looking at her. "I didn't want to, but I did."

"You're just a job, Robert and so am I."

He dipped his head, and his answer was so quiet it was almost impossible to hear.

"Yeah, I wish it was that simple."

They didn't speak after that. Not for many hours, but Lacey found it hard to give her reports after that. She began to leave out some pieces of information, nothing major at first, but soon only words she could send out were that Gold decided to drop the anchor and they were drifting at the same spot. Which wasn't a lie - they had been doing this a lot.

"So, do you have any family, agent Gold?" they dropped the pretences that she didn't know who he was two days into the cruise.

"That's complicated," he answered as he twisted the helm and she cocked her head at him.

"How can this be complicated?"

"Do you have any?"

She chuckled and sprawled on the deck, enjoying the feel of the sun warming her body as much as hot planks, choosing not to answer the obvious bait.

"How about a hobby?" She asked, instead.

She heard him kill the engine and soon a glass of champagne appeared in her field of vision.

"Reading actually."

"A well-read agent? Count me impressed," she accepted the glass and took a sip. Gold seated himself on one of the sunbeds. He didn't remove his shirt.

"I wasn't always an agent."

"Who then?"

"An officer in the navy."

She raised an eyebrow at him, smiling wildly.

"I knew you were good with that helm."

He chuckled and lied down, putting his hands behind his head, the sun catching in his sunglasses. Something stirred inside of her as she watched him. She didn't know what that feeling was, and she had never felt it before. It was weird, but somehow she felt safe with this man.

"I like reading too," she whispered, not really sure if she wanted him to hear her on not. He didn't say anything, and she thought he fell asleep, but later that day she had found a book lying on the nightstand at her part of the bed. He had heard her, and without realising, Lacey felt herself smile.

So yes, she felt conflicted. Because with every passing day, every amazing night, every laugh and passing smile, it was getting harder and harder to think of what she had to do -that she would have to turn him in when the time came.

And when one day he disappeared for hours, she knew he went out to look for Jones. She also knew she was to let him do it. But that was it. -her second to the last task. The hands of the clock almost at the dread hour of her betrayal. 

Lacey took a deep breath in through her nose, looking out on the horizon. In times like this, she really wished her father's foolery hadn't pushed her to steal from Pantazis. None of this would have happened then. 

She didn't know for how long she had been standing there, letting the night chill seep into her skin and bones when she felt his arms coming around her and the weight of Gold's head on her shoulder. She had been so lost in her own head she hadn't heard him come back.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he murmured next to her ear, and she could swear her heart broke a little.

"Just watching the horizon," she whispered hoarsely back.

"Mhm, it's beautiful."

She turned around in his arms and startled as she met his eyes. He wasn't looking at the sky, but at her. She gulped. The lantern illuminated his face, throwing a soft glow at him, making the silver bits in his hair more visible in the light. Lacey raised her hand and threaded her fingers through them. What had happened in his life that made them appear? 

"What's the matter?" he asked, worry almost perfectly masked in his hazel eyes. She forced a smile.

"Nothing. Come to bed?"

He took her hand in his and led them to their cabin without further prompting.

*

"Fuck!" Emma threw her pen across the room. It missed Jefferson's head by inches, making him startle from the slumber, waving his arms in panic as his chair tilted backwards. The papers flew from the desk when the man tried in vain to catch them as he was the one who disrupted them in the first place. The pen bounced from the wall with a soft thud.

"Care to share what had you so worked up?" Jefferson asked, sideglancing at her as he reassembled the stack next to his left.

"It's useless!" She threw her hands up and started walking in circles clearly frustrated. "There is layer upon layer of codes there. Getting to the bottom of who has done this is pointless!"

"What clearance would have been needed for this?"

"Judging from what you have told me? High."

"We're talking M's level high or not?"

"Higher. I'm almost sure of that."

Jefferson sighed and ran down a hand down his face. Damn, he needed coffee. Or tea. Tea would be fantastic. 

"It doesn't exclude her," he grimaced. "What about the girl? The one Gold's pinning after."

Emma grimaced and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Nothing. No birth certificate, no credit history, nothing. It's as if Lacey French has never existed."

"False identity?"

"That's what I'm thinking. I've run her photo through the database but came up with nothing. They were a couple of people who could be her, but nothing certain." she sighed and resumed her pacing. "The closest one was a daughter of some rich investor, but her credit card is still in use, and nowhere near French location."

Jefferson tapped his pan against the table before letting it go to roll over the papers. They had next to nothing. 

"Fuck indeed, then." He stood up and stretched his hurting back before massaging his neck. The wound already healed, but sometimes it still itched. "I'll go grab some tea. Would you like some?"

"Coffee for me. Thanks." 

Emma went back to her computer and heavily sat down. She flicked through the open tabs, writing the commands. She could hear Jefferson pulling his coat from the rack when the screen lit up. With a frown, she read what had popped up, her heart beating faster.

"Hey, wait!" She didn't tear her eyes away from the screen as if afraid that the window would disappear if she did. "Just take a look at this."

She heard him approach without a word, and then he was leaning over her shoulder.

"What exactly am I looking at?"

"This?" she tapped at the first part of the line. "Is the location near the hotel Gold was staying at. And this - " 

"MI6 headquarters," he whispered. "When was it?"

Emma risked a brief look at him. " It's still on."

"What?! Can we hear it?"

Emma shook her head but started tapping at the keyboard nevertheless. "It's a video call. I'm doing all I can."

"The whole network is bugged. How could it get through without being recorded?!"

"Give me a sec."

Emma tapped at the keyboard with a speed that would make many programmers at MI6 jealous. Jefferson didn't realise how hard he was squeezing the desk and the chair until he felt his knuckles protest at the pressure.

A new window appeared, showing a man with a reddish hair sitting in a leather chair. 

_" - shouldn't be there - "_

_"Oh, but he is. We'll get it from here. As for you,"_

"That's the most I can do. I can't get a hold of the other person image," said Emma, with her eyes glued to the screen. Jefferson squeezed her shoulder.

_"- you fail any of us. Now listen closely, you take care of M. I don't care how - just do it, and I may let you breathe for a little while longer. Do I make myself clear?_

_"Perfectly, sir."_

_"Good."_

The call ended, and Jefferson took a deep breath in. 

"Can you play the last part again? That where the other one is talking."

Emma nodded, and he waited as she did her magic.

_"Perfectly, sir."_

_"Good."_

Jefferson swallowed hard.

"Do you recognise that voice?" Emma's voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he glanced down. She was looking at him expectantly with the fighting sparks back in her eyes. 

"Yeah. We need to get to M."

He pushed away from the table with a strength that he wouldn't have thought himself possible only a few minutes before. Who needed tea when there was a breakthrough?

"Wait, 'we'? What do you mean 'we'? Hey, Jefferson, stop!" She grabbed him by the arm and spun around when he didn't answer. He flashed her a big, mad grin.

"Pack your bag, Emma. Time to go home."

He freed himself and threw open the door leaving her flabbergasted. 

_Well, shit._


	10. Chapter 8: Fuel to Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Fuel to Fire by Agnes Obel

Why had it always had to rain when she was about to head to work? 

Regina shook her head and pulled the umbrella out. It would be just her luck that Locksley would call in sick when she had to go to the headquarters unexpectedly. It hadn't been the first time, but nevertheless, the hour seemed odd to request her presence. Well, it wasn't as if it was so far that she couldn't make it on her own. 

"Be nice to Alice!" she called out to her son after taking the briefcase in her hand.

"I sure will, mom! Bye!"

"Goodbye, Miss Mills!"

She smiled. Yes, hiring Alice as Henry's babysitter was one of her best choices recently. They were good for each other, and Regina certainly felt a lot better that her son was safe during her absences. With that thought, she left the house poping the umbrella open the moment she stepped off the porch. 

Her thoughts unwillingly drifted off to Gold. She hadn't heard from him for quite some time; his last report had been days ago saying he was off to Jones location. Short, clipped, and not leaving her any room for more questions before hanging up on her. No words ever since and any attempts to track the man's phone had been fruitless - he kept it permanently turned off. Somehow it didn't surprise her one a bit. Regina looked to both sides of the road before crossing it. She just hoped he was still alive. 

She was almost on the other side of the road when she heard a squeak of tires and a car came rushing down at her from around the corner of the street. Regina didn't have time to react. She stood suddenly frozen watching it getting closer and instantly knowing she couldn't escape it when someone barreled into her, throwing her hard on the ground, rolling away from the car that got passed - the hard asphalt scratching her cheek.

"What - "

"No time! We need to get away from here!" screamed the blond woman who had apparently saved her as she unkindly hulled her up.

"Gun!"

The woman had pushed Regina violently to the ground yet again before she even managed to stand steadily on her own feet. Pain flared in her shoulder as she hit the ground hard - if she didn't have any bruises after that, she would have been surprised. The woman covered her with her own body just as two shots fired. She didn't move, not until both of them heard the third extra one.

"Clear!" She knew that voice.

"You OK?" the blond rolled over from her and gave her a hand up.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Shit. The guy is one of our's." 

Regina turned, holding her shoulder close to see a very familiar person looking over a man splayed on the road. The car that tried to run her down stood with its door open and lights still on. The driver then.

"Jefferson? What the hell is going on?"

The agent turned towards them, gun still raised, looking cautiously around before approaching them. When he moved, Regina was able to see the deadman's face.

_Locksley._

Her stomach made a nasty turn.

"Sorry for dropping like that on you, M. Time was short. Still is."

"Care to explain why one of our own agents tried to kill me?" She spat the question out, but she couldn't look away from the body. She had trusted that man.

Jefferson looked around yet again, watching the roofs with narrowed eyes.

"Not here."

Regina nodded once still a little shaken.

"Follow me."

She made a move to go back the way she had come from, but the blond woman stood in her way.

"You're sure you're OK? I threw you quite hard over there. Sorry."

"I'm not made of glass, miss - "

"Swan. Emma Swan." The woman extended a hand in her direction and Regina couldn't help but freeze, bearly stopping herself from flinching. So that was her. Well.

"A pleasure," anything but. "And thank you." Regina squeezed the woman's hand, letting go very quickly then turned to Jefferson. "Watch the road, agent."

"Yes, ma'am."

They made way back to her house, and with every step, Regina couldn't help the feeling of dread rising in her at the inevitable confrontation. 

*

Gold sat on the bed his back to Lacey lost in thoughts. Tension rolled off him in waves, but he couldn't stop his brain from thinking no matter how hard he tried. 

Lacey could see this. It was hard not to with the way the knots in his bare shoulders were almost clearly visible. He needed to relax. Even if for a little while, because if he went after Jones looking and feeling like that he would surely make a mistake, he would later regret. Well, another one at least.

Lacey pushed the guilt in her aside and crawled over the bed to seat just behind Gold. She ran her hands over his back and shoulders, digging her fingers into the tense muscles, willing them to loosen. Gold sighed and tilted his head at the same time her arms sneaked around his neck, her hands running down his chest. He clasped his hand over her own, the one that strayed to his heart and squeezed in gratitude.

She bit lightly on his earlobe and whispered into his ear. "Rob? Make love to me."

And he did. He held her close. Touched her. Looked for her. And found her. Like the dry parchment waiting for the quill, her body waited for his. Trembling. Anticipating. He didn't disappoint. 

It wasn't like their first time when they didn't know a thing about one another. Here in this moment with him pressed hard against her, Lacey had known that it could never be like that. She was lost. From the moment he had spun her around and swayed to the music that day in the casino to this point in time. 

She was lost. 

And that realisation together with the knowledge of the one thing she soon had to do hurt more than she could have ever imagined. And when he touched her just in the right spot, her cry wasn't just the one of pleasure. Because this pleasure hurt her soul like nothing ever could. There were almost no lies between them. Almost. How could she do it? To him? To the person that made her feel like that?

"It doesn't matter," he whispered against her collarbone as if sensing her thoughts.

"How can you say that?" She answered hoarsely, her eyes closed.

He moved slowly higher, brushing his lips over her skin to finish at her lips, planting a soft kiss. Normally he was rough as rock, but even rocks could be tender.

"Let it go, Lacey. Let it go because there are no sides now. There's only us. Whatever you have to do, I don't care."

"Don't say it..."

"Do you know why?" He pressed on. She didn't want to hear it. When said aloud, it would become a reality. A reality she couldn't afford. She screwed her eyes tightly shut, but then he touched her face, stroking his fingers gently over her cheek, coaxing her to crack her eyelids only slightly but enough to find him looking down at her with an expression so open it hurt.

"Please, don't... " a broken plea. Nothing more. Bearly a whisper thrown into the wind.

"I love you," he answered firmly but not unkindly. "I loved you from the moment I asked you to dance. And that's why, no matter what you have to do, I forgive you."

She wanted to tell him. She opened her mouth to do so, but he put his finger over her lips, stopping her. He smiled softly, that looped smile of his, but there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. It had always been there - just beneath the surface, and she briefly wondered how he would look like without it and how many people had seen it. 

"Shhh. You don't have to say it to me. Just forget it."

It didn't matter if he meant her feelings or what she had to do. She could see it in his eyes. He didn't believe she could love him back. But she did. By heavens, she did. And it was breaking her heart he could think otherwise.

"What if I can't?"

"Then pretend."

Tender and soft. A complete opposite of what they used to be all those days on the boat and somehow Lacey knew it could as well be their last time. It was unfair. It was messed up. But most of all, it was heartbreaking.

Later they laid in each other's arms, not talking, but the silence wasn't pleasant. It was heavy, and with each passing minute, Lacey felt it closing around her like a suffocating fog. And with that, a question left her mouth, one she wanted to ask for very very long.

"He's dead, isn't he? The teen from the photograph?" 

Lacey had never asked about it, but somehow she had known. She had caught Gold a couple of times looking at the photo in his wallet and then there had been this wrong feeling of sadness rolling off him in waves, one that had made her pretend she hadn't seen it. 

The silence stretched between them, and she thought he wouldn't answer even though she could feel his muscles tense. He didn't let go of her, though even if for a moment, she was afraid he would stand up from the bed and walk away.

"Why do you ask?" he finally whispered hoarsely, and she felt a stab of pain somewhere near her heart. 

"Your leg..." she worried her bottom lip, heart bitting faster. "Is this when it happened?"

"You already know the answer."

"Who was he?"

"My son."

The answer was so quiet she wouldn't have heard it if her face hadn't been so close. Lacey closed her eyes and didn't say a thing to that. Because, what could she? Sympathy wasn't enough, and she couldn't even imagine how Robert felt. It felt wrong even to try.

"I want you to promise me something, Lacey." She opened her eyes and freed herself from his arms to properly look at him. His gaze was intense. "I want you to take my phone after you do what you have to and ring the first number on the list. He will help you."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I've already told you."

"They will kill you."

He laughed. An ugly, short, humourless laugh that made her hair stand on end as he rolled away from her and threw his legs over the side.

"I've been dead for the last ten years," he admitted in that emotionless tone, his accent thick. "It is you who made me feel alive, even if for a little while."

She didn't know what to say to that, and she watched as he stood up and began to dress. He didn't look back at her as he pulled on his trousers and buttoned up the shirt. It was the dark, crimson one, and a shiver ran down her spine at how much it resembled a colour of blood.

"I can come with you," the admission escaped her mouth before she could help it and Gold stilled in his motions. "I could help you."

Gold turned around then, a small, sad smile visible on his face as he approached her. He traced his thumb over her cheek, stopping at her bottom lip. The top two buttons of his shirt reminded undone.

"You will help me by doing what is necessary. It's the only way I can get to them and for you to get away. I'm not worth dwelling on." 

"So you want them to kill you, is that it? Survivor guilt or something? I might not have been there, but even after spending so little time with you I can tell that what happened to your son wasn't your fault!"

"Oh, it was," there it was - that sad expression that she didn't know how to read. Like he knew he was right, and whatever she could say wouldn't change his mind.

"Tell me what happened then," she demanded stubbornly, standing up as well.

"You don't want to know," he let go of her, averting his gaze and snatched his tie from the chair.

"Try me."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"He was my son. That was enough for them to kill."

"Bullshit."

A corner of his lips twitched, but the look in his eyes didn't change. With a couple of swift, trained motions, he finished the knot and secured the tie under his collar.

"See you around, Lacey."

"That's not even my fucking name!"

Gold approached her, brushed his fingers against her hand and bend down, stealing a small, fleeting kiss. She couldn't help but close her eyes, forcing the tears that threatened to escape not to fall. She wasn't stupid. She had recognised the kiss for what it was.

"Then you will tell me the right one next time. Don't look back."

He left her on the bed, and true to his words didn't look back. Lacey wanted to scream at him, run and grab him. Make him ran away with her somewhere - anywhere they couldn't be found. 

But it was impossible, wasn't it?

Somehow, by betraying him, she would be helping him. His soul wouldn't be in peace until he got the people responsible for his son's death, and he was convinced Lacey's employer was one of them. How then could it be counted as a betrayal?

Lacey didn't care about how to call it, because she had to do it anyway. This was the only way for her to live.

But Gold would die.

Why it had to become so complicated?

If there was any other way... but no. Every single one of her previous attempts to break free had been for nothing. This was the only possible way.

Her fingers shook as she pulled her laptop out of the bag and activated the program.

The knowledge that it was also what Robert had wanted didn't make it hurt less.

*******

She rushed them inside, closing the door firmly behind them and turning the lock. Regina threw the keys into the bowl near the coat rack and turned to the rest of her 'guests' still standing awkwardly in the corridor. 

"The living room, now."

She pushed passed them, her hills clicking on the marble floor. They followed after her without a word, and she tried very hard to force her nervousness aside. It would not do - she wasn't some junior agent after all. But she didn't know what was worse - the fact that one of her most trusted men had tried to kill her just moments ago or that the birth mother of her son was now in her house.

Regina briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. Yes, now, she was ready. She sat down in the armchair facing the other two, the same one that Gold had sat not so long ago. 

"Now, will either one of you kindly tell me what the hell was that?"

"We intercepted the video call," Jefferson began, sitting down on the couch. Swan looked around uncertain before deciding to perch on the armrest. "Just a fragment, but it was enough. Male, tall, red hair. He spoke to someone from MI6 about an assignment."

"What assignment?"

"To kill you," It was Emma who answered matter-of-factly, and Regina's eyes briefly flickered towards the other woman before focusing back on Jefferson.

"What else?"

"We think they might have spoken about Gold."

She mulled this over, briefly tightening her hold on the armrests. So, a traitor in her flock, and connected to Gold's obsessive case. Could it be it was really connected after all?

"It looked like they want to get rid of him."

"You think the man from the video is the one we were after for all this time?"

Jefferson shrugged his shoulders.

"Looked like it."

M sighed.

"All right, who - "

"Mum?" Her head stapped towards the doorway. Her son was standing in there, clutching his teddy bear in one hand, eyes wide with fear flicking between her and the guests. He must have seen her dirty, wet clothes and scratched cheek.

"I'm so sorry, miss Mills, he heard you downstairs, and he got past me," Alice Rogers came in panting from the run down the stairs. Regina shook her head and raised a hand to stop the girl from apologising further.

"That's OK, Alice. Come here, Henry." She beckoned the child closer and suppressed a smile as the girl puffed a sigh of relief that moved the stray lock of her hair out of her face.

"Mum, what's going on? Is Mr Gold, alright?" Regina grimaced inwardly. Trust Henry to hear that part of the conversation. It could be worst - he could have heard the part about her almost being killed. She patted his head, forcing a smile.

"He's in a little bit of tight spot, but everything's going to be fine."

The boy nodded, and Regina was just about to tell him to go back to bed when he narrowed his eyes slightly and raised his small hand to her scraped cheek.

"I tripped," she said ahead of his question. "Go back to bed, Henry, and don't run from Alice, again, OK?"

"Alright," he agreed with a small voice and climbed off her knees.

Emma watched this conversation with a heavy feeling growing inside of her. There was something familiar about the kid as if she had seen him before. But it couldn't be, could it? She watched the way he moved, how he smiled at his mother, and she could feel her gut twisting. Why did this kid know who Gold was? He was almost by the doorway when something squeezed her throat, and she opened her mouth, ignoring Jefferson's hand on her arm as if to stop her.

"How old are you, kid?" He turned towards her. And seeing his eyes, she had known without hearing the answer. He had Gold's eyes. Neal's eyes.

"Ten," he answered a little confused.

Tears welled up in her own eyes for the first time in many many years. She was about to ask him another question, touch his arm, do anything really when another voice abruptly stopped her.

"Alice, would you take Henry to bed, please?"

"Right away, Miss Mills." 

Emma watched as the young girl took the boy - Henry - she corrected herself, by the hand and led him away from the room. She stood up, ready to follow them when she was stopped. Emma turned around to glare at the person and came eye to eye with M, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"Does he know?" _About Neal. Gold. Anything._

"No," M answered without missing a beat and Emma had to swallow hard.

"Is he happy?" Something shifted in M's expression at the question, and something akin to compassion flashed in her eyes. No, it couldn't have been it. Emma must have been mistaken.

"I do everything in my power for him to be."

Emma nodded once. She couldn't change the past, but maybe she would be able to form the future.

"Thank you."

Regina nodded and took a step back from the woman. From a moment she was afraid she would go after Henry, but it seemed unlikely now. Who knew, maybe soon the boy would be ready to hear the truth. And speaking of truth, she turned towards her other guest.

"Jefferson, did Locksley work alone?"

The man stood up from the sofa. "No. But I know who spoke with the Gingerman."

"Well?" she prompted exasperated when the man didn't care to elaborate further. Sometimes he was worst with the dramatics than Gold. Jefferson grinned.

"You got any bug spray?"

"I'm not in the mood, agent."

"Andromeda Blue," he said grinning even broader. 

_I'll be damned._

"Well, well, well. It seems a disinsection is in order after all." She pulled out her phone and glanced at Emma. "I hope you're ready for another family reunion, miss Swan because you're evening will get a lot more intense."

Jefferson frowned.

"You mean - "

"Yes," she smirked. "He's up and about. And it seems I'm in shortage of people who I can trust. Come along, you two. I know exactly where our culprit is hiding."

Oh, she was going to enjoy this. 

On the surface she was ecstatic, but somewhere deep inside her heart, she hoped they wouldn't be too late for Gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From next week I'm back at Uni for my final year. I'll try to have the next chapter done in two weeks. I'll probably have to make a rotation in writing between this and "Until the Last Petal Falls" but we'll see :) 
> 
> And yeah. I'm sorry, about Neal, but that was one of the things that was planned since the beginning and foreshadowed. We'll see in future chapters what exactly had happened, but was it really Gold's fault as he belives? You'll have to wait to find out!


	11. Chapter 9: Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little warning: Gold breaks Jones fingers in this one - it's nothing graphic, just mention he does that during the interrogation, but I thought to give you a heads-up.
> 
> Song for the chapter: Me and the Devil - Soap&Skin for the first half  
> Who will save you now - Les Friction for the second half

The wind was howling in the small cracks of the window, strong enough to cause the slight rocking of the boat. If it hadn't already, then it surely would start to rain soon. But it didn't matter to Lacey, not as she sat curled on the bed, the hard, wooden board digging in her bare shoulders. The movement of the boat and sounds of the wind, so soothing only hours ago, were now making her sick.

Or so she had thought.

It was good to blame it on the sea, not her own actions. Lacey hugged herself close trying not to look to her right where her phone stared at her from where she had thrown it against the wall. She felt sick. Even after vomiting two times, she could still feel the lump in her throat. 

_"Good girl. You did well."_

Fresh tears gathered in her eyes, and she sniffed. She had never felt so dirty as when she had made that phone call. At first, she had tried to scrub her hands with soup, but it had done nothing. No change.

_He's on his way to Jones. He'll take him on his boat and move your way."_

An ugly sob escaped her mouth. She tried to stop it but only ended with her coughing and crying harder.

_I've changed the coordinates. Did what you asked._

She hit her head on the board hard, screaming with frustration. The tears kept flowing from her eyes, clogging her nose, making it difficult to breathe. 

_Thank you, Lacey. It was a pleasure.  
What about our deal?  
You're free._

If she was then why didn't she feel so?!

In her pain and frustration, she swung her hand to the side, anticipating to hit something - anything - but what she didn't count on was a soft thud of a small object falling to the ground. 

Lacey sniffed again and swept her hand across her eyes in an attempt to get rid of some tears and snot then looked over the bed. It took her a moment to localise the thing that had fallen off the table, but when she did, her eyes winded. There, almost on the other side of the cabin, laid a phone - Gold's phone. 

Slowly, she stood up from the bed and approached it on wobbly legs. She didn't pick it up on sight but stared at it for over a minute as if the device would have bitten her. Finally, she crouched and with ragged breath and shaky hand, picked the phone up. It didn't burn her. She fully expected it to do so, irrational as it was, but nothing had happened. Lacey switched it on. The generic wallpaper stared and her from the screen, the flying seagulls over the sea mocking her. She didn't know what to expect, but somehow it was feating - seeing something more personal would have been a lot more disturbing. With a held breath, she swept her finger over the screen. It unlocked without asking for a password. Did he leave it like that on purpose?

Her finger shaking, she dialled the contact number form the top of the list.

*

A lone fish jumped out of the water, splashing his face with some droplets. Gold grimaced as he wiped at his cheek, taking the opportunity to look at his watch. Two hours. It wouldn't be long now. Jones had already conducted his business, and soon he would be at the perfect spot for Gold to take him in. Robert grimaced. It would be ideal if he could stop the transaction in the first place, but maybe if it all went according to his plan, he would be able to safe those children nevertheless.

One could hope.

Unconsciously, his hand travelled to the inner pocket of his jacket. His jaw clenched as he focused on the old photograph that he had pulled out of his wallet beforehand. Gold had never dwelled on why this particular photo had been the one that he had settled on carrying with him. This one was old, his boy still a teenager with no worries towards the world, taken when he still had let his father call him by his given name and not his second one. Somehow, by looking at his son's smiley face, sometimes, he was able to forget that this had been the same person who he had let down years later.

Robert ran his thumb down the outline of his boy's cheek before hiding the photograph back in its safe place against his chest.

Not long now. He would never get Bae back, but at least he could make sure the situation wouldn't repeat itself.

Gold didn't know for how long he was sitting back in his small boat - long enough for his thought to drift back to Lacey and their parting, but when he finally spotted Jones, lurking around on his own, he smirked. He couldn't think about Lacey anymore. He got too distracted by her. It had been almost to the point of wanting to walk away from all of this before he had caught himself. 

But it had hurt. That look on her face when he had said his goodbyes. But how could he make her understand how important it all was for him? He had a promise to keep; he couldn't break it. Not even for Lacey. This way, they both could get what they wanted - She, her freedom and he the peace he had been looking for.

He had wanted to tell her everything but at the same time not wanted to burden her any more than necessary. They had connected somehow, and letting her go had been one thing he was sure had been right. This way, he at least could keep somebody important to him safe. It didn't matter how much it hurt. He didn't want to see her dead.

His son would be the only casualty in all of this. He wouldn't let the history repeat itself. 

Lacey. Emma. Henry. - He would keep all of them safe.

For Baylen sake.

Gold took a deep breath in and climbed over the board, then cautiously, not making any unnecessary noise and hidden in the shadows, crept towards Jones. The man stood by the mast in the front, his shoulder resting against it casually as he tried in vain make a flame to light his cigarette. Gold didn't like the feeling that the old fishing boat was giving him. 

"Bloody lighter..." Jones murmured, the fag dangling from his mouth as he again tried to make the fire. Amotion it the corner of his vision made him frown, but as soon as he tried to turn around, someone put a hold on his throat from the rare, choking him. He tried to resist, kick out, but then a cloth came over his mouth and nose. A characteristic smell of chloroform invaded his nostrils, and soon he slumped in his captor's arms.

It began to rain.

*

"I must say I wasn't easy to take hold of you, Mr Jones."

Killian blinked. His eyes felt heavy, and it was difficult to think straight. Cobwebs surrounded his mind, and his tongue felt like wood and dirt and the image before his eyes was hazy at best. Someone was sitting in front of him, rocking from side to side. It took Jones a moment to see that it wasn't the person who was moving, but the small motorboat they were both currently in. 

"Who the hell are you?" He snarled and spat to the side. He tried to move but found his hands and legs bound.

"All you need to know is that I'm a guy with some questions which you will better answer.

"Or what?"

"Or," The man got closer to him with a nasty smirk, "You and I will get closer acquainted with one another."

The droplets of rain fell on the both of them, the boat rocked with the wind, and Jones swallowed. The man wasn't a big person, in fact, Killian was sure he would have been taller than him when standing up, but somehow he knew he shouldn't push his luck with him.

"I'm just a sailor - "

The man laughed, the sound sending a chill down Killian's spine.

"You and I both know, dearie that's as far from the truth as it can be. Now," the man sat on the broadside, leaning down to his face. "I would gladly just kill you, people like you don't deserve to live, but I made a deal not to. I can, however, deliver you in less than pristine condition. Is that clear?"

"Cristal," he muttered, his heart bitting more and more rapidly. Who the hell was this guy?

"Splendid. The first question: who are the kids?"

An easy one.

"Orphans."

"What was Nothingam's role in it?"

A little bit trickier, but it would not do to lie to that man. Jones 

"He staged the attacks. I looked for those who nobody would claim for."

"What do they want with them?"

Oh, shit.

"I don't know," a quick answer. A little bit too quick.

The man lunged at him and with one swift motion, got a hold of his right thumb and twisted. Jones hollowed.

"Are you sure, dearie?"

"I don't know! I swear!"

Another twist and snap. This time to his index finger.

"I've never asked!" The man made a move to his next finger, and Jones twisted in his bonds. "There was a guy!" 

Gold stopped, his ears perking. Well, that was interesting.

"Go on then, dearie. Don't keep me waiting."

*

Emma was still in shock. That was the only explanation to why she was moving and not freaking out. 

First seeing Henry for the first time since his birth - her little boy, not so little anymore. Then seeing her father for the first time in as much time.  
David Nolan looked older. There were marks on his face that hadn't been there before and silver strands in his hair. He had also looked like someone who had left the hospital sooner than he should have but didn't give a damn about it. Emma guessed that those genes she had to get after him. To both of their credit, none of them had cried, but it was close - maybe they would later when all of this mess would die down, and they wouldn't have to worry about the lurking assassins. For now, a hug would have to do.

"Are you ready, ladies and gentlemen?" M smoothed out her jacket, looking briefly at everybody. 

Emma nodded in response as did everybody else. Aside from her the rest of the team consisted of Jefferson, her father and a young woman who others had called R. An unusual choice of a code name, but considering the leader calling herself M not unexpected. The woman had also quickly abandoned the usage of codenames and simply introducing herself as Ruby to M's displeasure. Emma wasn't really sure what to think of the whole group.

"Let the show begin then."

Regina made her way towards the door, not looking at the others. She didn't have to - her agents knew what they were supposed to do, and the Swan woman seemed to be a quick learner. Either that or she just had experience with guns and extreme situations. Regina didn't know why, but she suspected the later.

The whole MI6 headquarters had been abandoned, no living soul in sight, but Regina had known better. Andromeda Blue was at her office, waiting for a massage that her plan had succeeded. 

No such luck.

They barged in onto the last floor, and as soon as the elevator door had opened, two agents drew their guns in their direction. They were too slow.  
Only one managed to remove his gun from the holster before they had fallen dead onto the floor - two matching bullet holes in their foreheads. 

The silencers did their job perfectly, and nobody had heard the shots - the soft thud of the bodies to the ground the only indication that anything had transpired. It occurred quickly enough that the traitors didn't manage to alert anybody else.

Regina's steps didn't even falter. Her eyes only on the door at the end of the corridor, she moved past the fallen bodies without glancing at either of them. It didn't matter who they had been. Not now. She heard another soft shot and a thud of a body falling down and then her hands were on the handles, twisting them and throwing the door open.

The surprise and instant paleness that occurred on Blue's face was worth every waisted hour of listening to her ranting about Gold. The woman sat behind the desk but as soon as Regina entered, she bolted upright, almost backing into the wall behind her.

"Not who you were expecting, isn't it?" Regina smirked.

"I wouldn't recommend it, ma'am," said Nolan next to her right, pointing his gun straight at Blue's head as he noticed her moving her hand in the direction of the closet. The woman stopped in her movements gulping, and Regina smile winded.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Please, don't act like you don't know," Regina was enjoying it. The way the other woman was sweating and looking nervously from her to the guns trained in her direction. 

"This is treason. I'll have your heads for this."

Somewhere over her shoulder, Jefferson chuckled.

"Off with the head," he murmured.

"Cut the crap, Blue," R interrupted. "We know you gave the orders to kill M."

"I don't -"

"You're such a bad liar that it's a miracle you got this job," Regina cut in, stalking in Blue's direction. The woman tried to back away, but there was nowhere else to go. "Now, let's get down to business. Miss Swan?"

Regina seated herself comfortably in Blue's swivelling chair, not letting the woman out of her sight as Emma pulled her laptop out of her bag. Jefferson and Nolan took Blue by the elbows and roughly pushed her into the nearest seat.

"You don't have any evidence," the woman said, trying for an intimidating look but failing miserably.

"You mean besides your men outside the door, who are dead by the way?" Regina smiled. "But of course we do."

And just like that, Emma played the recording of the videocall.

"Now," Regina had stopped smiling, her eyes become cold as steal as she leaned forward, piercing Blue with her glare as the video ended. "Let's start at the beginning and, for your own good, better not leave anything out."

Blue visibly gulped.

*

"So, you want me to believe that you saw this mysterious guy only once, have never spoken to him."

Well, when he put it like that, Jones didn't blame the man for doubting him. 

"He was young, light-brown hair," he gritted out, almost bitting down on his tongue as pain flared from him mangled fingers.

"And how exactly you think he was in any way connected to all of this?"

"His eyes felt ... off." Even to his ears, it sounded idiotic.

Gold narrowed his gaze, looking doubtful.

"His eyes," he repeated after Jones.

The man cringed.

"They... - Look, you will think me crazy, but ... They looked older. Older than the rest of him."

The wind got stronger, howling, throwing the salty water over the sides of the boat. A chill ran down Gold's spine, seeping into his bones, that had nothing to do with the weather. Something nagged at his mind, something he didn't want to be true at all.

"Those eyes... What colour were they?"

"Um... I don't know, mate? Brown, I think? It's not like I'm looking into the other guys' eyes deeply and remembering their colour."

Without warning, Gold took hold of one of Jones' broken fingers and twisted, making the man holler in pain.

"Not much of information is it, dearie?" He gritted out. That would teach the man not to get too cheeky.

"Please! He was at the casino; the owner clearly knew him and seemed to be afraid of him. I heard them talking."

Gold loosened his grip but didn't let go of Jones just yet.

"Go on."

Jones panted, looking around wildly in panic. Gold followed his gaze, wondering what could have the man so spooked. There was nothing in sight, aside from the small waves forming on the surface. They were alone.

"They will kill me," Jones murmured, gasping.

"I may too. I'm very close to doing just that, so start talking."

Jones swallowed then brought his broken hands closer to his body. He seemed to fight with his instincts; a small trickle of sweat ran down his brow.

"They said something about a fountain of youth and another guy," he started. "Greek name - I've never heard it again, I don't remember, I swear!" he screamed when Gold made a move towards him. It was difficult not to smirk - the man was even easier to break than he had thought. At the same time, the things he had said made Gold's blood run cold. It sounded too much like what had been going on those ten years ago to be a coincidence.

"What else?"

Jones licked his lips. The rain plastered his hair to his forehead, some covering his eyes. 

"Something about tests. That kid joked about having a younger body. It didn't make any sense!"

Jones was still rambling, but Gold couldn't hear any of it. The chances that that kid was who he thought he was were close to none. He had stabbed that man - saw as life left his eyes before he had to flee. 

Impossible.

And yet...

"The children," he interrupted Jones frantic speech how they had sent Lacey after him to learn how much had he heard. "Where are you taking them?"

Jones shook his head from side to side.

"N-No."

Gold pulled the gun from the holster hidden under his jacket, slowly, deliberately to make sure that Jones saw what he was doing. He focused his gaze on the weapon, not looking at the other man.

"I'll count to three then will shot your ear off for a start."

"I can't!"

"One," Gold flicked the safety off.

"Please -"

"Two," he racked the slide with a swift motion aiming the pistol at the man's head.

"Stop!"

"Thr - "

"All right! It's -"

Jones had never finished his sentence as a single bullet hit him right in the heart. Gold swang abruptly around to see two motorboats getting closer to him. He had just enough time to duck before the series of machine fire hit the boat. Some of the bullets hit Jones' now dead body, drilling holes into it, making it jump then slump further down the planks.

Gold crawled to the engine, splinters flying over his head.

Damn. 

He didn't count on them finding him so quickly. In fact, he was hoping he would be able to get away before the henchmen would get a chance to arrive - this way Lacey would be free for fulfilling her part and he would get away with information from Jones.

No such luck it seemed. 

A bullet grazed his shoulder, ripping the suit and shirt, making him wince, but it didn't stop him. The wound was superficial, not severe enough to even think about it, especially in the current situation. Gold finally made it to the engine and with one swift motion started it. Without looking back, he brought the motorboat around, splashing the water in his wake.

The chase was on.

*

The room was so quiet one could hear the soft ticking of the clock hidden away in one of the drawers. No one spoke a word, not after what they all had heard.

Even Jefferson, the man who probably saw the most twisted fings out of all of them was silent. 

"How could you," Ruby whispered, her eyes huge, tears glistening.

"Agent," Regina warned even of she felt like strangling the woman in front of her herself. R didn't listen.

"They were children! And for what? Lab experiments?!"

"Agent!"

"She's right, M," Nolan said, his grip on the gun a lot tighter as he trained it at Blue. "The leader of the board... You make me sick."

"I- I didn't know... Not a first - "

"It didn't stop you from continuing, though," Regina shut the woman up before she could tell one thing too much, that would earn her a bullet to the head. She took a deep breath in. She needed to calm down. 

"So, this man - Pantazis - you believe he found a recipe for immortality. He got you on board, pulled some strings and gave you a position of power to keep the law off his hair. How convenient."

"I just wanted my sister back, he promised - "

"If you try to justify your actions, I will not stop any of my agents from shooting you any longer," she snapped.

"Why children?" It was the first time Emma Swan had spoken since Blue finished her tale.

"There is an innocence to them - pure heart if you will," Blue wasn't looking at any of them, her fingers fidgeting with the loose end of her blouse. "It was the easiest path - pulling out this innocence and synthesising the serum. That was what keeps you young."

"Well, it didn't work, though, did it? Your boss wouldn't be still trying if it did."

"Oh, it did. Once. Partly."

Regina's eyes winded, her hands reflexly squeezed the armrest.

"Who."

"I can't -"

"You crossed the line when you couldn't. So answer the question."

"You thought him dead, but he's not. He got reborn."

"I didn't ask about the romanticised version, Andromeda. The name, now."

Silence. Then finally a name.

"Malcolm Gold."

Regina's thoughts came to a sudden halt.

*

At first, he had thought it had been a considerable downside to the whole situation - when ultimately he was supposed to gain immortality, he was now stuck in the body of a seventeen-year-old.

Not the end he had imagined when he had woken up with a syringe still plugged into his chest, fur sure, but soon he had learned it had been an even better outcome. He hadn't been getting older - not at first at least. A success, he had thought, having a mind of an adult, but a body of youngling. But then, only two years ago, he had spotted that the change hadn't been permanent. 

He didn't know why it began to reverse. Maybe it was because he had been dead when the procedure had taken place - being stabbed by his own son had been an inconvenience, but he had doubted it. 

Malcolm Gold, or Peter Panovich as he was now known, smirked under his nose, thinking how much Robert would hate to learn that ultimately what had saved his father was his son's death. Malcolm didn't even remember the young man's name. 

The plan had been simple. Stupid as his son had always been, he had thought it had all been because of him, but nothing more ridiculous. Malcolm had set the pieces on board and watched them move precisely as he had wanted.

Even now, this fool Pantazis didn't know that he was playing right into his hand, because even all through the experiments Gold had found out one thing - the key ingredient was a blood relation, and Pantazis didn't have any of it. Not yet, anyway. Without it, the serum was even less stable and longlasting.

All the experiments were giving Malcolm time, though. Time to find someone else than Robert's kid. And paradoxically, Robbo's not so unexpected mending could very well turn out to be the best outcome he could have ever imagined.

He would find his great-grandson.

And his own son would soon tell him where to find the boy.

He just had to wait a little bit longer...

... But only a little bit.

*

"Miss Swan, stand down!"

"Emma!"

"Swan, let go of her!"

"I'll ask you one question, and pray to whatever god you believe in before answering," Emma snarled, crashing Blue's windpipe against the wall, mindless to the hands on her shoulder trying to pull her away. "Did you know they would kill Baylen Neal Gold?"

"It wasn't me - "

Emma pushed harder, crashing the woman's windpipe, making her choke.

"Did you or didn't you?!"

"I-I did..."

Emma saw red. She didn't hesitate even for a moment and punched, not seeing where her fists had landed. Once. Twice. Then again. She didn't care.

All this pain.

All those tears.

All those lies.

For what?!

She swang her arm again, but this time it didn't connect. She whipped her head around, angry at whoever dared to stop her only to meet her father's steely gaze. 

"Emma."

That was it. The sound of her name was enough for the whole fight to drain away from her, and she slumped only to be caught in her father's strong arms. She wasn't a baby anymore, but the feel of being held close brought tears to her eyes. 

David Nolan though wasn't looking down at his daughter, but at the woman beaten in front of him. His own urge to shoot her fought with the cold reason inside of him. 

"Thank you - " Blue whispered, glancing up at him.

"Shut up," he spat. 

Blue turned her head towards Regina, blood running down her chin from her split lip.

"M - "

"Another question, Blue," she cut in, not letting the woman finish, her voice cold as steel. "Is Malcolm Gold working with Pantazis?"

Blue gulped.

"Yes."

"Is this project the same one as ten years ago?"

A nod.

"Is Gold in danger?"

"I don't - "

"Answer the damn question, Blue or I'll let miss Swan have her way with you again."

"Yes."

"What do they want from him?"

"There were rumours... about a boy."

Regina stiffened, and from the corner of her eye, she could see Emma doing just the same. A cold hand grabbed her heart and squeezed, making her shudder. Could she mean...?

It was beginning to be even harder not to kill the beaten-up woman in front of her.

The sudden sound of the ringtone pierced the silence in the office like a sharp knife. 

*

_I won't make it._

Not the best conclusion as yet another volley of bullets swished next to his ear, making him duck. Gold grimaced as the sharp turn he had to make with the helm had sent a spike of pain from his wounded shoulder. The other guys were persistent and getting closer to him with every minute, making him wonder about what engine they were using to gain such speed.

His probable defeat didn't mean that he had to get down easily.

Gold took another sharp turn. If he wasn't mistaken somewhere around here, there should be some very sharp rocks under the surface. 

Point one: don't get caught on any of them.

Point two: make at least one of the enemy's boats get caught on them instead.

Easy.

He glanced over his shoulder. The other boats were too close to his likening. 

*

Jefferson chuckled embarrassedly as every head turned towards the source, brows drawing together in confusion mixed with displeasure.

"Forgot to silence it," he said, fishing it out of his pocket, not minding the glare M was throwing his way, but his movements stilled as soon as he saw the caller's ID. He looked up from the screen. "It's Gold."

Not waiting for the instructions, he accepted the call, bringing the phone to his ear as soon as his finger swept across the screen.

"Gold, it's about time - "

"I'm not him, although I wish he would be the one calling you," the voice on the other side was clearly feminine. It was hoarse as if the person had been crying. Jefferson frowned.

"Who's this?" He could feel the others watching him closely, but he refused to lose focus. It was difficult to think straight after all the revelations, and it seemed there still wasn't an end to them.

"He told me you would help me."

Jefferson's mind raced. Why this woman had Gold's phone? Don't mind that - where was Gold?

"Well, if he said so, but I need to know who you are first," he said calmly instead.

Silence. Then a deep breath.

"My name's Belle Avonlea, but you may know me as Lacey French."

It was his turn to become speechless. The woman from the casino?

"Where is agent Gold?"

A shuddering breath. The rustle of material. The sound of bare feet on the wooden floor.

"Lac- Belle?"

"They will kill him."

Not the answer he was hoping to get.

"All right - OK, well, not OK, but it's going to be - "

"No, it's all my fault."

He tightened his hold on the phone, willing his mind to work faster. The woman sounded distressed, but he didn't like one a bit of what she was saying so far.

"Listen, don't do anything stupid - "

"I already did," she cut in. M was opening her mouth to speak, but he waved her off. There was no time. "They have probably already gotten to him," the woman on the phone added in almost a broken whisper.

M didn't waste any time, focusing back on Blue who luckily for her didn't move an inch from her spot on the floor. Time was running out.

"Where are they taking him? If you lie, I'll know," she added, seeing as the woman opened her mouth.

"There is an island," she started after only a second of hesitation.

*

Gold killed the engine just before the perturbing peak of the rock, stoping the motorboat parallel to it so his pursuers couldn't see it. Not that they minded their surroundings much - it seemed they had eyes only for him.

He waited, his head low and only when he was sure at least one of the boats wouldn't be able to brake before the rocks, he started the engine back, going to full speed in a matter of seconds.

Gold could hear the side of his boat scraping against the rock, but he couldn't wait to see if any damage had been done. The turbine was fine, and that had to be enough, he didn't care about the paint job. 

A bullet whistled next to his left ear just as he turned around, making him jerk to the side. 

_Shit. That one was close._

He could feel something wet trickling down his earlobe - be that blood or sweat. It didn't matter. 

Just then a loud explosion could be heard just behind him, and then the night was lighted by the flames which heat he could feel on his back.

Gold smirked as over his shoulder he saw the second motorboat sharply manoeuvring around so not to share the fate of the first one. The smirk turned into a grimace as his pursuers managed to resume their chaise.  
Not only that but soon they aligned their motorboat with his and two of them jumped over.

Gold blocked the helm so the motorboat wouldn't stop and turned around just in time to block the punch aimed at his face. Even in the dark, he could see the outline of another two people keeping their distance beside the three that currently tried to neutralise him. He managed to block another hit and catch a leg aimed at his midsection. Twisting himself, he jabbed his elbow hard at his attacker's sternum only then letting go of the leg, unbalancing his opponent, then quickly palm heeld the other one's jaw hard.

The planks were slippery from the rain, making it both easier and harder to fight. It didn't help, though, that there was close to no room to move around or that the rain was still dripping in his eyes. So it came with no surprise whatsoever when finally one of the other guys managed to land a solid hit to Gold's face.

Gold struck blindly behind him, satisfied when his fist met flesh, but unable to enjoy his small triumph when his attacker overbalanced and fell overboard as suddenly something sharp pierced his right arm.

Blood rushed to his head as numbness spread from the spot, and he glanced down, not fully comprehending what he was seeing. There, on his right side, was a syringe deeply plunged into his deltoid muscle. 

An empty syringe.

He staggered, black spots dancing before his eyes, his vision darkening by the seconds. He broke into sweats, the two people before him becoming four then six. He couldn't feel his arm, it was difficult to breathe, and before he knew it, his right leg gave up under him. His calves hit the side of the boat and tumbled over it.

Gold was unconscious before his head hit the water surface. He didn't feel it as it broke into his nostrils and parted lips, filling his lungs, nor when he sunk lower and lower into the deep, cold sea.

_I'm sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at Uni now, but still, I'll try to finish the next chapter as soon as I can :)  
> Meanwhile, feel free to nag me at tumblr: https://silwenworld.tumblr.com/ - I'll put the list of songs for this fic there soon (at least sooner that it will make an official appearance here:))


	12. Chapter 10: Papa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this chapter is angsty. Actually, it turned out a lot angstier than I thought it would.  
> You can guess from the title what this one is mostly about, but fair warning: there is a character death in this one. It's not graphic, so you're safe, but you know what's going on.  
> The songs for this chapter: Walk Through The Fire - zayde Wolf, Ruelle  
> One More Light - Linkin Park  
> Me and The Devil - Soap&Skin (which I now officially call Pantazis's song)

_29 years ago..._

He could count the number of times he had cried on the fingers of his one hand. From as long as he could remember, he had been told that men couldn't and didn't cry, and when caught shedding tears, there had been consequences. Even young as he was, he had killed without blinking with the same expression on his face as the one when he was eating breakfast. Yet right now, as he held the small bundle in his arms, the tears were flowing from his eyes like a river. His hands didn't shake, but he was sure that it was only because that if they did, he would indeed have dropped the most precious possession in his entire life.

It took Robert Gold one glance at the face hidden in the blanket to know he would lay his life if needed for the little boy. And small he was, too small even for his likening - born almost a month before his time.

At first, he hadn't believed the hospital when they had called him telling him that he was now a father as listed in the birth certificate. That he had a son waiting for him as his mother left without a word, leaving no contact details of hers, only his. He had known of course who the mother was - the relationship with Millah had been a mistake from the start, and he had been sure not to hear from her again ever since they had broken up seven months ago - but he hadn't said a word. 

He hadn't known what to think on his way to the hospital. He was 21-years old, a naval lieutenant with prospects of getting a job at MI6 - what he was supposed to do? He couldn't raise a kid all on his own! He wasn't a father's material, hell - he didn't know how to be one considering how shitty his own father had been!

But all those thoughts had disappeared the moment his eyes had landed on the small boy lying in the hospital crib - or more like in an open incubator. He hadn't known what to do - too afraid to touch the child, to make any sound but fighting the deep yearning to do so anyway. So he had approached the crib warily and for a moment considered turning and running away, but then the boy had opened his eyes and let out a small wail.

Robert had reacted without thinking, picking the child up, awkwardly at first but more firmly after a second, making shooshing noises, hugging him close to his chest. One look in the boy's eyes had been enough to know he was his son - they had the same eyes, dark, brown and big. The child looked at him and then, had done something Robert couldn't have predicted even if he knew how - he freed his small hand from the blanket and had caught him by the nose. That had been when the tears had started. That gentle touch of the little hand on his face.

"It's alright, Papa's here," he whispered, sniffing. 

The boy looked at him with those big, brown eyes, not wailing anymore, but more curious about the strange man's long nose, and Robert laughed softly.

"Yeah, I know. Weird, right?"

He would do anything for the boy. He just knew it.

"Sir?" The nurse's voice startled him, and he turned around. His hands tightened the hold on the child as if afraid he would be taken away from him. "I'm sorry, but the mother didn't fill out the name."

He looked down at his son, a small smile curling the corner of his lips as he saw the boy was already back to sleep, snuggled safely in his father's arms.

"Baylen. Baylen Neal Gold."

*

"Bae! No running in the halls!"

"Sorry, Papa!"

Gold shook his head fondly before looking back down to the file he had been reading. His son was now four years old, and the amount of energy the boy possessed was frightening at times. He still didn't know how he had survived the furniture-climbing faze or let's-try-to-eat-everything-I-can-get-my-hands-on faze, but somehow they had managed to get to this point in time. Gold had been slowly climbing in the ranks, and even if his job at MI6 right now considered of more desk job than any actual fieldwork, he couldn't complain - this way he was able to raise his kid and spend some real time with him, not worrying whenever he would be back home at night or not. Being a secret agent was one thing - being a single parent at the same time? A whole different matter eternally.

Robert tapped his pen on the table three times then made a few annotations on the side of the report, frowning. They had lost three agents in a matter of one month all because of some stupid decisions from the higher-ups. He would probably have to pull some extra hours at work to clean the whole mess up. He knew the organisation needed a change, but he was still too low in the ranks to make any move. With dismay he closed the file with a snap and put it back in the briefcase, closing it by using his fingerprint. Yes, his connections were growing, but they weren't enough. Sooner or later, he would find a way to put the right person in the right place - well, as soon as he would find them. He couldn't do it by himself as he had someone far more important to worry about. And speaking of which, it had been all to quiet for the last couple of minutes.

"Bae?" 

No answer. 

With a frown, he circled the desk and made his way towards the living room. Being a part of MI6 had its advantages. The salary was one, as he couldn't see himself being in his age with a kid and leaving in a place like this without it. It also had its disadvantages like the one that his hand almost itched to get his gun, even while knowing it was close to impossible for someone to break in and do something to his boy. 

"Bae? Are in there?"

There had to be a more probable explanation for the silence. Robert's heart was in his throat though in the same way as it always had been at the times his son had been sick - being premature made him prone to infections far too often - or that one time he had almost lost him in the shopping mall. 

As soon as he came around the corner, the hand that had been squeezing his heart had let go. Bae was sitting on the floor, his crayons in a mess all around him, lost in his little word. Gold leaned on the doorframe crossing his arms over his chest. There would be nothing unusual about the whole situation if the thing that his son was currently drawing on were a piece of paper rather than a pristine, white wall. Well, not so clean anymore as right now it spurted a rather nice looking, brown dog which tail was now being finished.

Robert knew he should put on his stern parent face right now, but somehow he couldn't force himself to do that. Instead, the corner of his lips curved in a small smile. 

"Bae," the boy jumped, the brown crayon falling from his fingers and rolling away as his eyes winded. Gold looked askance at his son, masking the smile. "What were you doing?"

"Um...playing?" He asked, hopefully. Gold nodded.

"If that's so, where did the dog came from?" He asked, gesturing at the drawing. The boy looked down, sheepishly and mumbled something under his nose. "What was that?"

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"You're angry."

Gold sighed and pushed himself from the doorframe, making his way to his son side in three swift steps. It would not do, Bae already had tears in his eyes and the way he looked like reminded Robert too much of himself when his father had been about to hit him. He would never hit Bae.

"I'm not angry, I promise," he said while sitting down next to his son. "Come here?" he opened his arm for a hug, but the boy shook his head. Gold smiled softly. "Come on, squirrel." The nickname did its job, and Bae crawled over Gold's lap, burring his small head in his father's chest. "You know you shouldn't write on the walls so why did you do it, hmm?"

"I thought it looked nice."

Robert glanced at the drawing that was now somewhere to his left.

"It is lovely, but it would be just as lovely on the paper."

"I wanted it to hang."

Gold nodded, stroking the boy's head absently.

"Well next time you want your drawing to hang, you can draw the picture on a paper and Papa will hang it up for you, OK?"

Bae nodded against his chest, hiccuping slightly.

"If you keep drawing on the walls, we would have to paint them over, and it costs money that we don't have, and we would have to move away from here as it's not our own place, right?"

"I don't want to move."

"Me neither, squirrel, so just don't do it next time, OK?"

"All right."

Gold smiled and kissed the top of his boy's head then glanced again at the drawing of the dog. Well, it was quite a lovely looking dog for a six-year-old. The landlord wouldn't have a say if he framed this one instead of painting it over.

*

"Papa, did you love mommy?"

OK, that question hadn't been the one he was expecting considering the hour. Well, he knew it would pop up sooner than later - he was expecting it to be sooner in fact, but it didn't change the fact that he still hadn't been prepared to answer it. Especially not in four in the morning when it was just the time he was about to get at least a little sleep before going back to work. But then Bae had found his way to his room, looking sleepy and distressed. He knew he could say goodbye to his sleep as the kid climbed his bed.

"I thought I did," he finally admitted as his son settled himself under the covers. How could he explain this to a six-year-old boy?

"So you didn't?"

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He so wasn't ready for this.

"We were young, made mistakes..."

"Was I a mistake?"

His eyes snapped open, and he turned so fast the bed squeaked. 

"No!" His arms darted towards his son, cradling him close to his chest. "No," he repeated, quieter against Bae's hair. "Never a mistake."

"You sure?"

"Bae, do you know what the best moment in my life was?"

The boy shook his head. 

"When I held you in my arms for the first time, you were tiny, you know?"

"Smaller than now?" Bae pushed away a little bit so he could look his father in the eye. Gold chuckled.

"Aye, a lot smaller. You caught me by my nose, just like that." He caught Bae's nose between his two fingers, making the boy giggle. "You're the most precious thing that I could ever ask for."

"Why did mum leave, then? Didn't she love me?"

Gold could feel tears pricking his eyes, and he hugged his boy close, willing them not to fall. It wasn't fair. He knew it wasn't.

"I don't know, squirrel. I really don't. I'm sorry." He rocked his son as his small shoulders shuddered with silent tears. Bae had never been loud while crying, and Robert sometimes wondered if he got that from him. "I can promise you something." He shifted, so they both were lying more comfortable. "I'll keep you safe - "

" - You won't leave me?"

Robert hugged him tighter.

"Never. I promise. I love you."

"Love you too, papa."

In the end, Gold wasn't the one who had left.

*

"I need to get those papers to the boss, can you wait for me here?"

"Sure thing, papa."

He ruffled his 12-year-old's hair affectionally, which earned him a semi-offended scoff.

"Behave, squirrel. I'll be right back."

"I'm not a squirrel!"

"You are to me!" He called over his shoulder, chuckling. 

He hated to leave the boy here, but he again was working extra hours and had no one to leave his son with so the only option was to take him with him to the office. An office full of top-secret information that would have him sentenced for life at best of any of the secrets would leak out. It was good that some people chose to turn a blind eye that a teenage boy was roaming the headquarters of MI6 for years now.

"Nanny bailed out on you again?" He sighed as he heard Regina Mills' voice and soon felt her presence next to his shoulder as she fell in step with him. "You know he's a teenager, right? They can take care of their own."

"Have you become a mother in the two months I've been away?" He grimaced, but Regina only smirked. M had paired them up four years ago, and honestly, he still didn't know it was still working. Regina was five years younger than him and a nuisance, but ambitious and climbed the ranks even quicker than he.

"I've been a mother for years. I count you as a child."

"I'm older than you."

"So?"

"How am I a child in this?"

She looked at him, pointedly as if it was the stupidest question in the world. Gold cleared his throat and opened one of the folders in his hand, flicking through the pages.

"How's the kid, by the way?"

"He doesn't sound as if he's about to cough his lung if that's what's you're asking," he mumbled distractedly.

"Good. I hate how grumpy you are when he's sick."

Sick was putting it lightly. Bae's month stay in a hospital was still giving Gold nightmares. Masking his unease with a cough, he pulled out a sheet of paper from the folder and handed it to Regina.

"One more for the coup d'etat," he remarked.

"Are you sure about that?" She asked, scanning the page.

"You and I both know that M's been doing a lousy job for years now," they arrived at the elevator and Gold pushed the button. "Give me two, maybe three years tops, and you'll have enough material to bring him down."

The doors opened, and he stepped in, passing the folders to his other hand.

"Gold? Why are you doing this? Why me?" Regina asked.

"I'm not bossy enough to stand the top brass, unlike you," he grinned at her sour look. "Besides, you'll own me a favour."

The door closed, not giving Regina a chance to respond.

*

"Dad? How do you know that you like somebody?"

Gold glanced at his son, his expression illuminated by the laptop's screen.

"You mean like or like-like?"

Baylen grimaced but kept fidgeting with his phone.

"Like-like?"

"Ask them out, and you'll know."

"Papa!"

Gold grinned and relaxed into his chair after closing the laptop. Baylen looked utterly miserable, but for the first time, he was actually enjoying that look on his boy's face. He raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, who are they?"

"Her name's Emma... Her father's a police officer."

Gold bearly restrained himself from chuckling. Trust Bae to make a big deal to him about who the father of the girl he fancied was.

"And?" He prompted.

"She's very good at computers. And funny. And has this beautiful smile that lights up her whole face - what?" His son gave him a startled look at his sudden snort.

"I think you already know that you like-like this Emma, Bae."

Baylen smiled sheepishly.

*

_10 years ago... ___

__It was quiet in the house, and Gold let out a relieved sigh, wincing instantly when a pain shot from his ribs with the next step as he limped through the hall. Bae-Neal, he corrected himself - he would always be Baylen for him no matter what the boy said, but he did respect his choices - seemed to stay at the Nolan's today. Gold didn't blame him. The fight they had, had been a serious one. Some words had been spoken in anger that he wished he could have taken back but hadn't got the time to as he had been called away on a mission._ _

__And it had been one of the hardest ones since he had gotten his status of OO two years ago._ _

__And ironically, the reason behind the fight with his almost nineteen-years-old son._ _

___"Yeah, go kill others without the consequences! Why don't you!"_ _ _

___"I do this so I can keep others safe, and you know it!"_ _ _

___"Right, you know it's been a real fun on those parent projects at school. 'And you, Baylen what do your parents do? Oh, my mum was a bitch who didn't give a damn about me - "_ _ _

___" - Language, son- "_ _ _

___"- And my dad is almost a licensed killer!'"_

_"That's enough, Bae!"_

_"One day, you will end up dead! And where will that leave me and Emma?!"_

"She has nothing to do with this, Bae."

_"Yes, she does! She's pregnant! And it's Neal, for fuck's sake!"_

His son had stormed off after that. Gold hadn't been proud of the exchange. They hadn't gotten that many significant fights in the past, but the words his son had spoken had struck deep - maybe because they had been true, but Gold couldn't help his ambitions. With Regina finally in charge, thanks to his mending, and him being a full flagged agent, he couldn't quit. He was addicted to it, always had been. He had promised Bae he would let it go soon, but it didn't change the fact that this mission he just had to carry through. This and the next one too.

Something was brewing. Gold didn't yet know what, but he had a gut feeling - something he had almost perfected during his forty-years of age. Children had started to disappear in the war zones, illegal weapon market was blooming more than ever, and it all had started just a couple of months ago. And one name had been popping up in the news lately - one he didn't like one a bit.

He couldn't quit. Not yet. Especially not after the reveal that there was about to be another addition to his family.

So, he limped towards the living room, hoping to get to the first aid kit hidden away in one of the drawers. His wounds weren't severe but painful, and he didn't trust the hospitals not to keep him overnight or longer, so he had decided to head home instead. He leaned on the doorframe, resting his head against the cold metal, breathing hard while closing his eyes. It was good that his son wasn't home.

"Papa?"

Or not.

The living room was dark, but when opening his eyes, he could bearly see the outline of his 18-years-old son. Blurry and a little doubled, but Bae's nevertheless.

"Shouldn't you be at Nolan's?" he asked resigned, his voice raspy thanks to the bruising already visible on his throat beneath the collar.

Neal approached him, cautiously, slowly as if his father was a wounded animal met somewhere in the wild. Not far from the truth, really. There was still blood on his suit and not all of it his.

"I came to take my things," his son answered, quietly not really able to hide the worry in his voice.

Gold nodded, focusing on his son's face or at least trying to. Something trickled down his hip and leg. He didn't dare to look down, suddenly thankful for the lack of light.

"I won't keep you waiting."

He fully expected for Bae to brush past him by now, but he was still standing where he had been, not moving. Well, not moving wasn't the right term as he was swaying, but Gold was pretty sure it was due to his own injuries and not his son's movement. Baylen's hand twitched at his side as if he wanted to reach out to him, but stop himself when realising what he was about to do.

"I want to keep them safe."

"I know. I don't blame you," he answered tiredly. He wanted the same thing, after all. Gold had been a fool thinking he could balance both his lives so well. It was a miracle he would able to get as many years with his boy as he had. 

Bae still didn't move.

Gold sighed and pushed himself from the doorframe, waiting to get this over with, but his vision suddenly swayed, and he wobbled on his feet. His mind went woozy, and he must have blacked out for a second because when his vision cleared, he was sitting in the armchair, his son's concerned face hovering over him.

"I'm fine," he grunted, trying to stand up just to be pushed back into the chair.

"On a scale of December 15th to May 24th, how bad is it?"

Gold winced.

"Somewhere in between," he admitted.

Neil nodded and without another word went to get the medkit. His father was a master at concealing his injuries, and for a very long time, Neil hadn't even known what the man's actual line of work had been. He had thought him to be a simple ex-military paper pusher. It had changed on December 15th, when Neil had been thirteen, and he had caught his father cleaning his bloodstained clothes while nursing an ugly knife wound to the side. The wound got infected two days later, and Gold had to go to the hospital. And then, almost three years later, Neil had gotten a phone call from Miss Mills telling him his father was in a critical condition with a gunshot wound to his lung. Since then, he had always asked about his dad's wellbeing when injured varying between those two dates.

But he just couldn't keep doing this.

Still, in silence, he helped his father remove his clothes and, trying not to stare at cuts and bruises, began to clean the worst of them.

"You should go to the hospital," he mumbled while threading a needle. The wound that was bleeding the most - the one just above his father's hip - was deep enough to need stitching.

"Don't have time for that," Gold answered, grimacing. He glanced at his son, and when realising what he was doing, he covered his hand with his, stopping him. "I'll do it myself. You can finish packing."

Bae glared at him.

"I don't think stitching yourself up is the best idea right now, pops," he snapped. He was still angry, but beneath it, all he was first and foremost afraid. Every time he was seeing his father could be the last, and now he was about to become a father himself. He wasn't ready.

"You'll do fine," his dad gritted out through his teeth as the needle puncture his skin.

"It's not like I haven't stitched you up before," he mumbled. He felt his father chuckle by the way his muscles moved, but what had come out of his mouth resembled more a hiss than anything else.

"That's not what, I meant," he elaborated. 

"Yeah? then what?" Stupid old man. Why couldn't he be an accountant or something? 

"You're going to be a fine father. Far better than your own pop."

"Shut up." How could he know what he was thinking? 

"Well, you don't plan on getting your kid to patch you up, do you?" Gold looked down, fondly at his son's concentrated face then hissed again when Bae pulled at the thread. His son didn't answer. Instead, he finished the stitch then bandaged the now closed wound.

"You really can't let this go, can you?" the boy - no, the man, Gold corrected himself, asked. But he sounded so small that for a moment he thought it was his little boy, freshly woken from a nightmare, kneeling before him.

Gold felt tears gather in his eyes, and he couldn't help himself as he ran his hand through his son's hair.

"The next mission is going to be the last, all right?" Bae raised his eyes up at him, and Gold's heart broke a little at how hopeful he looked. "It may take a while," an underestimate, "but I promise - After that? We can all be a family. We all be alive and safe - You, me, Emma and the baby."

"Henry. If it's a boy, we thought we could name him Henry." 

Gold's mouth curved, despite the exhaustion. "And if it's a girl?"

"I thought Tilly."

Gold nodded. "You. Me. Emma. Henry-Tilly. Safe and alive. I promise."

Bae nodded and squeezed his hand. An hour later, Gold was alone in an empty flat. It was for the better - His son was safer that way with a changed ID and all. He would keep that promise.

He didn't know how wrong he was.

*

Children shouldn't have to kill their parents. But their parents shouldn't have been crazy psychopaths either. 

It was twisted and not at all how it was supposed to be. 

_"How about that, laddie? You don't have guts to do this."_

There were tear tracks on his face. There was no reason to be crying after the man that had made so many years of his life living hell. And yet he was doing just that.

_"Poor Robbo, cowering away as always. They might have given you a fancy title and a gun, but you're still a coward."_

His right leg hurt, and he could feel the makeshift bandage on his shoulder getting wetter as blood seeped through with every step.

But he needed to see them. He needed to hold them and make sure they were fine. He had his orders, he knew what had to be done, and done it, but he needed to look into his boy's eyes and pray he didn't see him as scum.

_"What will you do when I get my hands on that kid of yours, hmm? Nothing. You'll be useless as always, thinking you have it all figured out. You know nothing, laddie."_

He could see the blood on his hands even though he had washed them so many times the skin was still red and raw. But he could see that moment playing over and over in his head. 

The struggle.

The fall.

The sharp metal ripping his calf.

The knife in his hand that he plunged into his father's chest.

Watching the light fade from those brown eyes that even lifeless held so much spite that could last for decades.

_"Oh, and I've heard rumours... Isn't his girlfriend pregnant? Congratulations are in order for the both of us it seems."_

He had held the knife for long enough for his own fingers to stiffen. And even after it was way past the time he should let go, he made sure to check for a pulse. He had found none.

Malcolm Gold was dead.

Killed by his son's hand.

The sick bastard wouldn't hurt another human being ever again, but somewhere deep down where the small Bobby Gold was still hiding in the closet yearning for his Papa's attention, Gold felt sick with what he had done.

So he stumbled down the street, to the familiar block of flats already visible around the corner where the light on the sixth-floor apartment was thankfully still on. Up until now, Gold had visited only once, but now he couldn't keep away any longer.

He was drawn like a moth to the flame, towards his family. It was finished.

Gold found the doors unlocked and somehow managed to climb the stairs despite the agony he felt every time his leg made contact with the step. The hour was late, but it took only ten seconds for Bae to open the doors after Gold had rung the bell.

"Papa?"

Neal's eyes winded in surprise, taking in his father's haggard appearance - the way he kept his weight mostly on his left leg, the dark spot on his pant leg, tearstained face, raw knuckles.

"Bae..." His dad's voice sounded broken, pleading. And this time he didn't correct him about using his old name. Instead, he exchanged his arms and pulled his dad into a tight hug, only a little surprised at how clingy he was when his hands twisted in Neal's shirt.

Neal pulled him inside, closing the door with his elbow, not letting go, taking some of his father's weight on himself.

"I've killed him. It's over."

Neal stilled, hearing his father's muffled voice. He swallowed hard, wanting to know more, but too afraid to ask. Instead, he tightened his arms around the man holding him close.

"Neal?" Emma came around the corner from the kitchen, holding herself steady on the wall. At close to eight months pregnant her back was killing her, especially in the evenings, but it took her only one glance at her soon to be father-in-law to know what would need to be done next. "I'll bring the medkit and ready the coach." 

Neal smiled to her over his father's shoulder in thanks.

"Come on, Papa. Let's seat."

Neal didn't ask what happened. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. It didn't change the fact that he wasn't stupid, and the clues were easy to add up. Because he had spent that night seated next to his father and the man repeated only one word in his restless sleep.

_Papa_

Malcolm Gold hadn't been the topic that had popped up often, more like close to never, but what Neal knew was enough. Somehow his grandfather had been involved in whatever his father latest assignment was - Involved and killed.

And the one who had pulled the trigger or whatever was no other than Neal's dad.

Neal pushed away, the stray lock of hair from Gold's forehead, wondering how the man could stand his hair that long. There were other questions he wanted to ask but didn't dare to.

So he kept vigil as the clock ticked and his father tossed in his sleep.

*

It had been raining that day. Emma had been out, and later on, he had been grateful - their last conversation summed up in a kiss and a promise to see each other later and not a tearful goodbye with empty promises.

Neal should have known that something hadn't been right. He had never seen the woman in green around his father, and there had been something in her eyes, something maniacal - wicked even that he should have paid more attention to. He should have trusted that feeling that he had inherited from his dad, telling him that something was off about the whole situation. Still, the moment the woman lanched onto him, words like 'trouble' 'his father' 'danger' and 'death' spilling from her mouth, he should have known better. Somehow she had made it seem he could be the only one to get his dad out of a situation he had found himself in, one he shouldn't have been considering he had quit the MI6 two days after he had stumbled in Neal's flat one month ago. So he had gone with the woman, leaving Emma a quick note on the table, after grabbing the only gun in the house and ignoring the red flags that had been even redder than the stranger's hair. 

And he hadn't seen the wicked smile on the woman's face, too preoccupied with the worry about his father. In the end, he didn't use the gun. He didn't even manage to pull it out from his waistband when hands grabbed him out of nowhere and dragged him towards the car. They hit him over the head, and he slumped in their hold, unable to fight.

Before the darkness took him, with a pang of guilt and sudden realisation, he knew one thing - he would never see Emma ever again. 

*

"Bae! Please don't! Not my son!"

"It's OK, Papa..."

"No! No, I beg you! Don't - Agrr!"

"Don't hurt him! You promised not to touch him any more!"

"I lied."

"Papa!"

"Please... Please... Not, N-Not my boy -Not Bae..."

"Oh, poor Robbie, can't move that leg, can you? what a shame you won't be getting any nearer."

"Kill me, instead! Don't hurt him. It-It's me that you wa - "

"Oh, and who told you that?"

A scream. 

"Leave him alone!"

"Bae, no... don't..."

"It's OK."

"I'm s-sorry, God, I'm s-sorry..."

"Look away, Papa."

"S-Squirrel..."

"You remember your promise? Keep them safe."

"No- No! I'll kill you! Don't touch him!"

"Just watch me, doll."

"Look away, Papa. Please."

Gold didn't look away. He kept trashing and screaming on the floor, but Neal didn't have the strength to tell him to stop. He wanted so much to tell his dad not to blame himself, that it wasn't his fault.

"P-Please... N-No."

He wanted to say it was OK while it wasn't, to be the brave one while scared, and to have the strength for his dad to remember the smile on his face instead of a grimace. His father's red from crying eyes were the last thing he had seen before he felt a syringe plunge into his neck. 

Bae's only regret as he slipped into the embrace of darkness was that he would never see his own son.

And then the veil closed all around him, and Baylen Neal Gold knew nothing more.

*

"Clear!"

"There's nobody here."

"Have you checked the last room?"

"I'm going in."

"God Almighty... Gold? Gold!"

"Jesus, Is he...?"

"Gold? You need to let him go. We'll take care of him. Let go, Rob."

*

It should have been raining. Instead, the day was as sunny as it could be with only the wind as his sole companion.

No parent should have to bury their child.

Gold tightened his hold on the crutches waiting for the tears to come. They didn't. He supposed he didn't have any left.

"I'm sorry..." he rasped, but no answer had come from the gravestone. 

It was his fault. All of it. His damn fault.

Zelena. His father. The others - how could he be so stupid, thinking that killing Malcolm would have to be the end of all of this? How could he be so blind not to know there had to be more people involved? 

And now his son was dead, his almost daughter-in-law hated him and was on the run, and his grandson was still in danger.

Emma had screamed at him in the hospital, had been closed to punching him when he had taken her boy little boy away.

No parent should have to bury their child, and no parent should have to be separated from one.

And Gold was the cause of both of the above.

In his mind, he was crushing to the ground, screaming, begging for forgiveness. He would do anything to turn back time, but he knew it was impossible. All he could do was to secure the future for the only part of Baylen that he had left in this world. 

Malcolm had said he wanted the boy too, so whoever the twisted man had been working with would be targeting Henry as well. 

Henry.

Gold flinched as if hit. Bae wanted the boy to be named Henry. He would never see his son grow; he hadn't even seen him born. Emma had given birth alone, while the doctors had tried to patch Gold up. By all means, he should still be in the hospital, but only two days after Q had fixed his leg, he had pushed the shock and trauma far into the corner to his mind and told Emma she needed to give up her child.

If that didn't make him a monster, he didn't know what did.

With a sudden spike of anger, he threw the crutch at the gravestone, screaming.

"It's not fair..."

He threw the second one, watched it bounce off the gravestone.

"I'm so sorry, son..." He wobbled, his right leg still unstable despite the brace then fell to his knees. "I'm s-sorry. I'll keep them safe. All of them.... I promise."

*

"Gold? What are you doing here?"

"I'm cashing in my favour."

"What?"

Gold hugged the small bundle in his arms closer to his chest as the wind got stronger. His other hand gripped the cane in a death grip, his arm already shaking. His body wasn't ready to walk without the two crutches, but would sooner crawl than hand his precious cargo to anybody else. It would be the last time he would hold him. His wounds could be damned.

Regina's eyes briefly flickered to the bundle only now realising that what it was hiding was a baby. She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but she couldn't get the words out, not when she saw the desperate look on Gold's face.

"Please," he begged, and it was so unlike him, she had almost taken a step back from the shock. Gone was the sarcastic man she had known for all those years, in his place stood a broken man that she got a glimpse on the graveyard. "You're the only one I can trust."

She nodded, exchanging her arms. Gold hesitated only for a moment but then, reluctantly and awkwardly, he placed the small boy into her arms. The child opened his eyes and looked at her. She felt something squeeze her heart.

They were the same as Gold's eyes. 

"Those people are still out there. He's not safe till they're gone."

"You're not fit for duty," she mumbled not taking her eyes from the boy, tracing her thumb over his cheek. She heard Gold sigh.

"But I'll be."

She nodded again. "You better be." 

Regina heard the rustle of Gold's shoes and a tap of his cane as he turned around. She raised her head. "Gold?" He didn't turn back around, his shoulders stiff, but he stopped. "What should I tell him? You know, when he grows up?"

"Nothing," he whispered. "He must know nothing - about his parents, me - nothing. For his own safety."

Regina nodded, her mouth set in a thin line and her heart breaking a little.

"I'll keep him safe."

She turned around, her hand already on the doorknob, ready to close the door behind her.

"May I ask you something, though?" Gold's voice stopped her in her motions, and when she turned around, he was looking at her intensively. "Could you name him Henry?"

She didn't ask why. 

"Of course."

She watched him go, and she entered the house with a baby in her arms only when the sound of uneven steps down the street and a tap of a cane faded in the distance.

*

_Now..._

Heavy clouds hung over London, and the wind was blowing like crazy - a telltale sign that sooner rather than later, it would start to rain. There were no other people on the street than three men clad in black. A dark hat shadowed the middle one's eyes, and only a lightened cigarette was visible from under the brim. Slowly, as if without the care in the world, they approached the large, white house in which only one window on the top floor was illuminated by the lamp inside.

The two men took a step back, when the one with the hat rung the bell, flicking the cigarette away from his mouth at the same time. It took twenty seconds for the door to open, but only just so thanks to the chain.

"Can I help you, sir?" the blond girl asked, her eyes flicking between the three strangers, and the man in the hat grinned.

"I'm here with a message for the lady of the house if she's present?"

"She's busy and can't go down," the girl's tone was uneasy, the answer a little too quick and the smirk didn't leave the man's face.

"Well, that won't be the problem."

The slight nod of his head was the only indication the others had needed. The girl had no time to react as they barged in, tearing the door from the hinges.

"Get the boy," the man order with a bored tone. The girl tried to stop them, but it was to no avail when she got hit in the face, falling to the ground. She grunted and tried to get up only to be stopped by the man in the hat, pointing the gun at her. "I wouldn't recommend it, my dear."

She stayed still, staring at the barrel with wide eyes. It hadn't been long till they heard the sounds of a struggle and one of the goons appeared from the staircase, dragging a ten-year-old boy along with him. 

"Let go of me!" he screamed while trashing and almost bitting his captor's hand. Amusing view, the man in a hat though, watching this amused from the corner of his eye. 

"Shut it, kid!"

"Alice! What are you doing to her!"

"My, my, aren't we a feisty one?" The man asked, standing up and grinning. The kid shot daggers at him as one of the goons twisted his hands behind his back. There was no question to whose blood the kid was.

"Who are you?"

"Let's say I'm your designated driver for a family reunion," he answered while smirking. "Take him away."

"Don't touch him!"

"And you, sweetheart," he turned back to the girl. "Will relay a message for Miss Mills from me. "He bent down to be at the eye level with her. "Tell her that, Mr Pantazis sends his regards."

She got hit in the head, not getting a chance to answer and he got up.

"Sir?" One of his men indicated the door and Pantazis nodded. "Leave them open."

He watched as they loaded the boy into the car. Malcolm Gold had thought he held all the cards - he was wrong.

Pantazis whistled under his nose as he made his way to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of chapter total has increased by one, so at least 4 more chapters left!  
> Also, I've added the cover art for the fic as chapter one - hence the change in numbering by 2 ;)


	13. Chapter 11: Who are we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 84 Years, I know. Happy New Year to everybody reading this! 
> 
> Anyway - if anybody interested, then Zelena's theme is A Little Wicked by Valerie Broussard  
> Other songs for this chapter are Light by Nathan Wagner and Who are You by SVRCINA

To die, to sleep. 

To sleep, perchance to dream...

_"Please... Please... Not, N-Not my boy -Not Bae..."_

He was drifting. Somewhere dark... Somewhere in between... The silence of the ocean, so calm and soothing, embracing him from every side like a lover had been his last conscious thought.

_"Look away, Papa."_

Some part of him had hoped to never wake up again at least not in this world. It would have been so much better for him to open his eyes to a different one, one where he and his son were together. 

_"You remember your promise?"_

But it seemed it wasn't meant to be like that at all - the promise he had given bound him to this hell of a place - his personal purgatory.

_"Look away, Papa. Please."_

He hadn't said he had loved him. He hadn't got the time to say so, and he could only hope his boy had known. He had to know... 

_"P-Please... N-No."_

Gold regained consciousness to splitting headache - a sign on itself that he wasn't dead after all. It took him a couple of blinks to get his surroundings to focus enough to recognise at least a little bit where he was. The room was dark except for the light shining directly at his face. He winced at the pain it had intensified, and tried to move but found himself unable to - his hands were bound tightly with a thick rope and resting on his nape, stopping any kind of movement at all. Gold tried to lift them over his head, then twist them to no avail. Something was pulling at them, keeping them in place. 

He didn't like the feel of any of it. Well, at least he wasn't dead, and first rays of suspicion began to enter his mind to what exactly was happening.

Years of service kept him from panicking, but the situation was dire, he couldn't deny it. He tried to remember what had happened before his capture, but his memories were fragmented. Of one thing he was sure - someone had plunged a syringe into his arm - a syringe filled with something very nasty that was making his head hurt like hell. The pain was making it hard to focus.

"Oh, wriggle as much as you want, pet. You won't get away anyway."

All the things he had been thinking, all movement he had been trying to achieve, stopped the moment he heard that voice. It was like a bucket of cold, icy water, thrown over his head, and a feeling of dread washed over him, followed by a wave of seething anger - burning and blinding him to anything but the person who had spoken from beyond the blinding light.

"You!"

He hadn't heard that voice in ten years, but the hate he felt towards it hadn't lessened as he still could hear it in his nightmares, laughing as he had wiggled on the floor with pain and despair with the body of the most important person in his life lying just out of his range.

She appeared from the shadows - green eyes sparkling with glee, a wicked smile on her face, just as he had remembered her from that day as her red hair bounced in the rhythm of her steps as she approached him.

"I've heard you missed me so much you tried to find me for all these years," she leaned down so close to his face, he could feel her breath on his cheeks and smiled a predatory grin that made him want to gag. "If that's not love, I don't know what is."

He bore his teeth at her, anger rolling from him in waves, his body tense and strained against his restraints. 

"I swore to kill you, Zelena. I won't stop until I do." 

"Oh, Robbie," she looked at him with pity in her eyes and stroked his cheek almost tenderly. It took everything in his power not to flinch away from her or spit on her face. "Still clinging to delusions, I see."

"It won't be a delusion when you bleed out, dearie."

She smiled patronisingly at him.

"Well, _dearie_ , you didn't manage to do it last time. Someone else did bleed out, though, didn't he? What a shame it was." She took his jaw in her hand, squeezing enough to hurt, madness glimmering in her eyes as she bent even closer, almost brushing his lips with hers while talking. "He was such a lovely boy."

"Don't you dare speak about him!"

_Papa!_

His spit hit her just above the lip, but she didn't mind it at all. On the contrary, her tongue darted forward, slowly licking it away as her eyes never left his, watching him with a twisted spark of pleasure.

"Well... That's one way to kiss a woman."

"I would much rather kiss a corpse than you," he gritted out.

"We can arrange that, although," she stepped away from him, removing her coat and draping it over the only other chair in the room. "Our mutual friend seems to think it would be better for you to become a corpse yourself. A shame really," she added.

Zelena sat down in the chair, crossing her legs, not bothered in the slightest by the way how her dress rolled up, revealing her bare legs.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, depending on how much you cooperate," she said after a moment of contemplating him in silence.

"Talk as much as you want, Zelena," Gold snarled, straining against the bonds. The rope dug painfully into his wrists. "I think we both know who will not be the one walking out of here."

"Oh, yes - walking," she grinned at him at it was the only warning he got before the chair he had been sitting in was kicked out from under him. The rope suddenly pulled and just like that, he was hanging by his hands, his shoulder joints painfully strained almost ready to pop as his feet barely touched the ground. Zelena stood up and grinned as he tried to kick with his legs to find any purchase. "How's that leg of yours? I know the place is different but I still may found a crowbar somewhere - Oh, there it is!"

Pain shot up his right calf just as she took the tool from under the chair with a maniacal glee in her eye. Gold remembered all too well the feeling of broken bones as similar thing shattered his leg. 

She had broken it once. And he had only made it worse when trying to get to his son.

Gold bit the inside of his cheek, stopping himself from making any noise. 

There was one significant difference between that day ten years ago and now - this time he didn't have anything to lose. At least nothing that was in the same room with him, his brain added when his thoughts briefly wondered towards the woman he had left on the boat.

"You lost, Zelena," he stated calmly, pushing the pain in his strained arms and mangled leg aside. "No matter what happens to me today, you lost."

She cocked her head to the side, stroking the crowbar with her right hand.

"Oh? I don't know if it's sweet or pathetic that you think that."

"MI6 has enough evidence to finally get all of you - "

"Please. You couldn't do a thing for ten years, what changed?"

He smirked.

"A witness. Someone who you and your boss didn't take too seriously."

Her eyes hardened.

"You're awfully confident for someone who's currently in your position, don't you think?"

He could see it, the exact moment when his words started to get under her skin.

"And I think you're pathetic in thinking that this Panthasis guy can get you anything remotely resembling appreciation."

When the crowbar connected with his stomach, he didn't cry out. Bearly.

"That's all you got? You must have gotten older."

She hit him again this time aiming at his bad leg, and the shout died in his throat as he bit his tongue. Gold could feel the outer part of the brace cracking, he could only hope, the screws would keep his bones together if the outer part failed. But Zelena's anger only served as the affirmation - Lacey's employer had been the same man responsible for everything, and he didn't need any further proof for that. He could only hope that the younger woman would have listened to him and got all those precious pieces of information to Jefferson.

"I'm not the one who had crawled at other's people feet," Zelena snarled, then twisted her fingers in his hair, pulling hard. "Now, will you tell me where the boy is by any chance?"

Gold panted, sweat running down the side of his face, but he didn't wince - instead, his gaze was cold as a steal as he forced his voice not to quiver.

"What boy?" 

"But your grandson, of course. You do have one, your son's son."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, please," she bent down, her face close to his ear, her breath brushing against his skin. "We both know that's a lie. Malcolm knew from the start. You can't hide the boy from him forever."

Gold went still. He expected that revelation - Jones' earlier voice hitting something inside of him, making him wonder. Still, it didn't mean that hearing it aloud so direct and matter of fact made it any easier in hiding his reaction. At the same time, he could feel Zelena's lips curling in a simile against his earlobe.

"Oh yes," she breathed out, pleased. "I supposed nobody gave you the news - your father is alive and kicking, not thanks to you of course. Don't you want to know how?"

He didn't. He really didn't, but at the same time knew he would learn anyway and that he wouldn't like the answer in the slightest. Zelena moved her head just so she could see his face and cocked her head to the side.

"Your son saved him or more accurately - his blood." His eyes winded as blood rushed into his ears. Zelena was still talking. "Ironic. You kill your father, and your son dies so he could live."

"That's what you were doing," he panted, his eyes wide. "What you're still doing."

"Have you finally caught on, pet?" she asked grinning.

"You're using the children to ensure yourself a longer life."

Her grin grew even wider if possible.

"No, not just longer, Robbie - an eternal one."

"You sick bastards."

"Spare me your musings," she stepped away from him. "Where's the boy."

Not a chance.

"Fuck off, Zelena."

"Wrong answer."

Another swing of the crowbar and this time he couldn't suppress the scream, but the pain was finally worth it - he finally had his confirmation - an ultimate one and complete one.

Malcolm was alive. And he wanted Henry. That was even more reason to get out of here alive.

"What will you have from it?" He panted. 

"Besides the satisfaction of seeing you like that?" She ran down her long fingernail down his torso, scratching the skin. He was only wearing a white shirt, still dump from the water with three of his buttons unmade. Zelena pushed harder, digging into his chest. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You won't get it," he coughed, spitting out blood. "Nor the boy."

"Well, the whole conversation would have a point if you could do something about it, which you can't, pet." She traced her finger back up, leaving a red line in its wake. "You can't keep him away from Malcolm because someone else would soon bring him to him. It's just a matter of time."

His head snapped up painfully, eyes wide and throat dry.

"If you touch one hair on his head, I swear - "

"You'll do what? Kill me? I've heard that one before."

Zelena let go of the crowbar, not spearing it another glance as it hit the floor. She slowly made her way back to the chair and only now, Gold noticed that aside from her coat, there had been his own jacket, draped over the back of it. "I must say it was fun, seeing you again," she added, rummaging through his pocket. "But I do have my orders. Aren't you a little curious?"

He watched as she turned around, the burn in his arms almost unbearable. "Go to hell, Zelena."

She smiled.

"Only after you."

That was when he had seen what she had been hiding behind her back. Without flinching, she pulled his own gun at him, watching for his reaction. He didn't give her any.

"Any last words, Robbie?"

His eyes didn't leave hers, but his heart jumped a bit at the movement over her shoulder.

He grunted something under his breath that she could understand.

"Come again?" Zelena asked, raising her eyebrow.

"You didn't lock the door," he repeated.

"Wh - "

A swish of air had been the only warning she had gotten before being hit over the head.

"And," he added as he watched her going down. "This gun is fingerprint-locked."

Zelena didn't hear any of it as she hit the ground unconscious before he had even started speaking.

"Rob!" 

He visibly sagged in his bounds as Lacey dropped the crowbar, rushing to his side. Her hands were on him in seconds, searching for wounds her eyes couldn't see.

"I'm OK," he gasped as she touched his tender side, making her frown.

"You don't sound it."

"I had worse," he admitted, and it was true. At least this time, all of his bones were more or less intact. He wasn't in a top shape though, which only turned out even more accurate when Lacey cut through his bonds. Her hands were the only thing stopping him from going face first on the ground.

"I got you," she whispered, lowering him gently.

"You shouldn't have come," he rasped, but instead of letting him go, she hugged him tight.

"I couldn't bring myself not to."

His lips curled.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Something told me you wouldn't, but I could hope."

Gold panted as his vision swam before his eyes. He couldn't lose consciousness, at least not yet. He glanced from Lacey's concerned face to Zelena's unconscious form and briefly closed his eyes. First, there was work to be done, and besides, he couldn't leave Lacey on her own - he wouldn't let the history repeat itself. This time it would be a lot different. Finally.

"Help me tie her up," he grunted and heaved himself off Lacey. He wobbled slightly but managed to stay more or less upright, breathing through the pain.

"We should leave - "

"I'm not going anywhere," he snapped, and she backed away a little, her eyes widening when meeting his gaze. Gold didn't care. When looking back at Zelena, all his anger from ten years bubbled up to the surface, threatening to spill over the edge.

This woman had killed his son. Threatened his grandson. He would not be tolerating it any longer.

"You can either help me or leave," he added, limping towards the fallen chair and straightening it up. Gold didn't dare to look back at Lacey, but when he heard her shuffling beside him, he almost heaved a breath of relief. 

"Who's she?" she whispered when she helped him haul Zelena into the chair.

"Someone facing a trial."

"And you planing to be the judge and executioner?" He tightened the bonds on Zelena's arms, not answering. "Rob?"

"You better stand back," he said instead, ignoring the guilt in his stomach as Zelena started to stir. "Weaky, weaky, dearie."

Satisfied for the first time this day, he watched as realisation slowly appeared on the bound woman's face. It was freeing in a way: to see her wriggle in her bounds as something akin to fear started to take hold of her.

"My, my. Look how turntables," Gold smiled and straightened up, conscious of the pain in his right leg. It wouldn't do for him now to keel over. Not when he finally had what he so desperately wanted for so many years. His smile progressed to a full grin when Zelena, mindless of his words, tried to wrench her arms free, making a very desperate noise in the process. "I've waited ten years to see you like this," he leaned forward to get closer to her enjoying the way her body pushed against the chair to get away from him. "Told you I would do it."

"You can't kill me," she breathed out, but it was clear as a day she didn't fully believe in her own words.

"Oh, really, dearie? What could give you such an idea?"

"You're part of an MI6, they have rules - "

"Those rules stoped applying when you killed my son," he all but spat out and pushed away from the chair, making int slide a couple of inches backwards. Gold could feel Lacey stiffening somewhere to his left, but he tried to ignore her. Years of suppressed anger and desperation, guilt for what had happened and fear for Henry's future - all those emotions bubbled up and spilt over the edge as he took out his gun.

"I would have loved nothing more than shoot you here and there," he murmured, trying for a calm he didn't feel. "I should do it," he glanced up. Zelena's eyes were fixed on his gun. "But I can't." The surprise on woman's face was almost comical. "At least to yet."

Gold had waited too long for this single moment. He dreamed about it, breathed it like air. Yet now, he couldn't fulfil it as he had wanted. He took a step forward, biting the inside of his cheek and drawing blood to stop himself from limping. It was a miracle the brace was still holding.

He would have shot Zelena with no mercy if not for one fact.

Malcolm Gold was alive.

And he was after Henry.

Robert unlocked the pistol and put it firmly to Zelena's temple.

"I'll ask this once," he whispered, his gaze cold as steel. "Where's Malcolm?"

"You want me to believe that you won't shoot me if I tell you?"

"No," he cocked the slide. "If you tell me it's just going to be quicker."

Lacey watched the display with growing uneasiness. It wasn't that she suddenly regretted her decision about coming to Robert's rescue, no. She was still certain of that choice as she had been when she had overheard the possible location of where they had taken him over the phone.

For almost all her life, someone had been making decisions for her and those she had made herself had turned out even worse. Her mother had once told her to decide her fate - Lacey hadn't understood the meaning, not at that time, at least. Too long, she had forgotten how it felt - to be free. But now she was, and it didn't take her long to make a decision that could in all probability, get her killed or lose that freedom again. Because what was freedom if it was paid for with her humanity?

Pantazis had ordered her to deliver Gold for him, and she did.

Robert had told her to betray him, and she did that too. 

When he had told her to leave him and forget about him... well, that she couldn't do.

It took her two weeks, but Lacey had gotten to know him more than probably nobody ever had. She had seen someone a lot different than he had presented to the world when he had thought she hadn't been looking. Those two weeks had been enough for him to save her, and now she would do the same. Because they both had been lost - he even more than her and refusing to see it. If left alone, the darkness would have taken him whole, and she couldn't let that happen.

So she had packed her bag and arrived at this place. Sneaked past the guards and rescued Rob as she had planned. But the man who was now threatening the woman strapped to the chair wasn't the Rob she had gotten to know. There was darkness engulfing him, controlling his movements, his tone more mocking and cold that she had ever heard before. 

He wasn't Rob. And yet he was.

But she wasn't eternally Lacey anymore, was she? Nor was she Belle... Truth be told, she didn't know who she was...

Robert pushed his gun under the woman's jaw, making her flinch. He was losing control, Lacey could see it with every passing second. She had no doubt that he would shoot Zelena's arm or leg to prove he wasn't bluffing. Was this who he had been all along? 

Lacey frowned. No. She truly believed that the Rob she had met for the first time wasn't the real one and neither was this one. It seemed that the real Robert Gold had died ten years ago, along with his son. Or so he would like to believe, because Lacey had seen glimpses of that man, hidden just beneath the surface, desperately fighting to survive.

If not the people they had been nor the ones they pretended to be, then who were they, exactly? Just the shells? 

Zelena laughed then screamed, and Lacey flinched. 

No.

It couldn't end like this.

She took a step forward.

*

Gold couldn't think clearly. For a man driven by revenge for so very long, he couldn't do the final thing. Did it make him a lesser man? There was a second - a split one - when he thought about not killing Zelena, but leaving her to rot. But then she had laughed, and all he could see and hear was his boy crying for his father while knowing he couldn't be saved.

He had been useless then - a waste of air and a failure.

Not anymore.

Not again.

*

She reached him just as he was about to pull the trigger. The intention was clear as a day, from the stiffening of his shoulders to his twitching finger. Only when she had gotten closer had she noticed the sweat running down the side of his face, mixing with blood. 

Not hesitating, Lacey caught him by his arm before he could shoot.

"Rob," she ignored the way he stiffened even more as if just remembering she was still in the room, "We got the location. We need to go."

"Stay out of this, Lacey."

His voice was hoarse, so unlike his own. Once she might have listened, but not anymore. Lacey tightened her hold on him, pulling his arm.

"Your people will be here any minute, she won't get away."

"She killed my boy!" He rilled on her, eyes blazing. Even throughout his fury, he didn't let go of the gun. "She deserves to die!"

"I'm not saying she doesn't," she insisted, willing him to listen to her. "Just not by your hand."

"Let me go, Lacey."

"No." By the look in his eyes, she was playing with fire, but she would be damned if she would let him do this. She wasn't stupid, she knew he had killed before but not like this. This wasn't killing in self-defence or even by the order during a mission. It was an execution, driven by a personal need of revenge, plain and simple murder. 

Her left hand moved towards the gun while she curled the other around his biceps, not breaking the eye contact. "If you do this, you'll be no better than her. You think your son would like that?"

His gaze wavered if only for a moment, and she knew that she was getting to him. If he made that shot... Lacey was sure that he would never be able to heal after that. The man on the other side of the mirror would have been completely lost to darkness then.

"I made a promise..." 

It was a broken whisper that made Lacey want to hug him right here and there. She felt something pricking her eyes. She couldn't cry even if she wanted.

"It won't bring him back."

"I promised to kill her."

She squeezed his arm. Something was telling her it wasn't the whole truth.

"Did you really?"

_You. Me. Emma. Henry-Tilly. Safe and alive. I promise._

_You remember your promise? Keep them safe._

_"I'm s-sorry. I'll keep them safe. All of them.... I promise._

He didn't crumble- no - but it was enough for her to see not a hard-edged agent in front of her but a broken and still greaving man as the arm that held the gun fell limply to his side.

"Well, that was anti-climatic," Zelena huffed, suddenly back to her self-assured self when no longer being held at gunpoint.

"You," Lacey turned on the other woman with fury in her eyes. "Shut up."

"Sorry, Luv. You'll not get out of here alive."

"I doubt that your two bodyguards have woken up yet, so sorry to disappoint."

"Enjoy the fresh air, Zelena," Rob's voice was oddly emotionless, and when Lacey glanced over her shoulder, she saw that he had already turned his back to them. "It'll be the last time you'll ever breathe it."

*

Gold felt numb. The whole anger that he had felt before simply evaporated, leaving him empty. He didn't hear the insults that Zelena was throwing in his direction, didn't feel the pain from his injuries, none of that mattered to him anymore. Maybe it was a trick of light maybe something else, but he could swear he could see Bae's smiling face somewhere in the distance.

Had he made the right choice?

Calm engulfed him as Lacey slipped her hand into his. No, no Lacey - it wasn't her real name, was it? He swept his gaze over her trying to figure her out. He hoped she would have listened to him and disappeared after calling Jefferson. Yet here she was. By his side. Why?

He was about to ask just that when a flash of silver caught his eye, after that his body reacted on instinct and muscle memory. Gold didn't think. Instead, he grabbed Lacey and spoon her around, shielding her with his body as at the same time he raised his gun.

Two shots fired.

Two of them found their mark.

And one body tumbled to the ground.

*

Lacey screamed at the sound of the gunfire so close to her ear. It all happened so quickly that her brain had trouble processing what had lead to what. One moment she was walking away with Rob and then he was shielding her from harm.

Rob.

Her eyes winded, and immediately, she wrenched herself free and away from him. There was a dark patch of blood at the top of his shoulder, but he looked like he hadn't noticed it at all. He didn't move, just stared at the body currently lying on the floor, his gun still grasped firmly in his outstretched hand.

He didn't react when she touched his arm, nor when she took the pistol away from his hand. He was still staring like a marble statue, his expression blank.

"You're bleeding," she murmured and only then did he blink and slowly turned his gaze to where she was looking at the wound at his shoulder.

"It's just a scratch."

"You seemed to have gained an awful lot of them."

She tried for a lighter tone, but it fell flat. Nevertheless, the corner of his lips twitched in response, before his expression became unreadable again. Slowly, as if in a dream, he moved foreword. 

Lacey didn't stop him, even if she should. They had no time - she had treated the guards with a teaser, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn't wake up any minute. It was also possible that those two hadn't been the only ones and after those shots... Yet she walked after him, watching closely. 

Zelena's eyes stared forward, unseeing and glazed over. A single bullet hole in the middle of her forehead, indicating her quick death.

Too quick.

Too anti-climatic.

Yet feating.

Gold stared still not eternally believing. She was dead. After all those years, she finally was dead. Yet, he felt empty. He thought he would have felt something, anything, but instead of even a glimmer of satisfaction, there was nothing.

"I dreamed about this moment."

Was this his voice speaking? It sounded too hollow to be his own. 

"Does it make me a bad person?"

To whom he was speaking?

"No."

Lacey. He more felt her than saw her, still unable to tear his gaze away from Zelena's dead body. It felt unreal. 

"A bad person wouldn't be willing to let her live."

"Lacey - "

"It's not my name, you know," he turned towards her to see she was smiling. It didn't reach her eyes as if she was doing it just so he would feel better. He wasn't sure it worked.

"Right. Who are you then, miss French?"

Why did you come back?

She shook her head, briefly glancing at Zelena. He didn't turn his gaze. He no longer wanted to look. 

"I'll let you know when I figure it out."

He was about to answer when a sudden spike of pain from his leg made him tilt sideways. 

"Rob!"

"I'm fine," underestimate, but it would have to do. "I think we need to get out of here."

"I know where the exit is, but first," she let him go, then took off her backpack and removed two familiar-looking items. "A woman named R, told me this could come in handy."

Gold frowned before accepting only the canister of the shaving foam. He would not hack the brace. Not yet. The mechanisms of the damned thing would have to hold until later. No one knew for how long it would work after hacking, and he still needed to use his leg for as long as possible. He would crawl to the exit if that was what it needed, but a pain reliever would come in handy. Slowly, and with Lacey's help, he sat down then sprayed his right leg after rolling the pant leg. He tried not to overthink how ugly and twisted the brace had looked after the beating with parts of metal still digging into his skin.

"Will this hold?" Lacey looked concerned, and he couldn't blame her. It looked bad.

"It'll have to. Come on."

As much as he would have wanted, he couldn't help but glance back at Zelena's dead body before they walked out of the room. 

*

It would have been too easy if they could just walk out of there, Lacey thought. They had managed to almost make it when their path had been blocked by three men. Robert didn't waste any time, shooting them dead, with well-practised precision. For someone with a busted leg, he sure was quick. It didn't make her worry less. Especially, when after the next turn another two had appeared, forcing them to run. With Every step, Rob was limping more and more, and his breathing grew ragged and forced. Lacey glanced worriedly at his right leg. How much further could he go on?

"Distract me," he rasped after firing over his shoulder, his brow furred with pain.

"What?"

"Distract me," he repeated.

Her mind rilled, and she almost lost her footing, his arm on her elbow the only thing preventing her from tripping.

"Belle Avonlea," she blurted out. "That's my name," she added after catching his confused gaze.

"Nice to finally meet you then."

"But it's not who I am anymore."

"Well," his next shot finally got one of the men that were after them. "How about Belle French, then?"

She grinned up at him.

"Yes, I think it works rather nicely."

The other one went down. And if she had to half drag Rob to the boat after that, neither of them commented on it. 

Neither did she say anything when she saw him crying later over an old photograph from his wallet.

They will have to talk soon. She would tell him everything, but for now, he deserved that moment for himself. 

Silently she sat down beside him.

It still surprised her that he took her hand in his and squeezed in silent gratitude.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcomed ;) I would love to hear your thoughts as it's my first work like that so don't be afraid to write something in the box below!


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